Real World
by suppi-kero-chans
Summary: Harry wakes up after being unconscious for a month and learns that his parents are alive, there is no Voldemort, and magic does not exist. This is the real world...right? ::yaoi : some language : set after HBP : complete ::
1. In Which Dr Crawford Visits

I have a lot I want to say about this story. I've been writing it off and on for a couple years--really only a year and a half, but somewhere in the middle my computer crashed and I went a year without any way to work on this--and I'm glad it's finally gotten to the point where I feel comfortable posting it. Aside from "So Not Myself," I think it's my longest finished fan fiction--it might be longer than "So Not Myself," I haven't even checked. I'm a bit proud of it--I really learned to like some of the characters I normally avoid.

The origin of the story: Many years ago I read a well-written, but unfortunately unfinished story in which Harry wakes up and realizes that Hogwarts was a dream. In it, Draco was a hippie and Snape wore--if I remember correctly--sandals. I couldn't force myself to depart from characters _that_ far and I don't think I would want to, but the idea has hung around, prickling at my brain when I have nothing else to think about.

**If the unfinished hippie-Draco story is yours (I looked for it, but couldn't find it again), this is one's for you. Finish your story and send me the link: I really liked it. ^_^**

Quick note: this story is finished, but many of the later chapters need to have a fine edit done on them, so I'll be posting in chunks (probably one a week).

Disclaimer monkeys tell me I don't own any of this and I feel inclined to believe them. I hope you all enjoy reading and please review.

**~~***~~**

Stretching and yawning, Harry rolled over on his side, wincing as he did so. There was a sharp pain in his head. Squinting through the sunlight, he felt around the bedside table for his glasses. There was too much light...and no hangings to draw....he must be in the hospital wing. That would be the only explanation....

"Where did I-- Here they are," he muttered sleepily, picking up the warm frames and putting them on. The blurry world was suddenly focused and it took only a second for him to realize that he was most certainly inot/i in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

A huge bay window with straight, blue curtains was thrown wide open, letting light and heat stream into a large bedroom. There was a small dresser covered in trinkets, and a desk with books and papers stacked neatly on it. The bed he was lying on was large and comfortable, spread with layers of blankets and comforters. The walls were papered with posters of people he had never seen before. Some of them were playing musical instruments and others were playing soccer or doing sports tricks on bikes and snowboards.

Looking around frantically, Harry tried to find something he recognized. There was nothing. It was all foreign. Climbing out of bed, wobbling as he tried to balance on his feet, he braced himself on the bedside table.

"OK," Harry told himself slowly, rubbing his sore forehead. "There is a very good explanation for all of this. You just need to find it." What was the last thing he could remember? They were in Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione were bickering about something they were supposed to be looking for, and he was... The memory faded like a dream.

Making his way tentatively to the door, Harry turned the knob. He peered out into a hallway that looked as normal as any he had ever seen. Still photographs on the wall depicted several older, and some much younger, people.

_They aren't moving. A muggle house_, he thought, poking at one of the pictures.

Feeling a little more steady on his feet, Harry ran his hand along the wall just in case he got dizzy. Making his way slowly down the hall, he came to the top of a flight of stairs. They were carpeted in brown, with a heavy railing down one side. From the floor below, he could hear voices. Trying not to make noise, not entirely sure he was even suppose to be in this muggle house, Harry crept down the stairs.

"I won't do it. The visiting nurses come to give him his injections, and that's all he needs. They say there's nothing else they can do for him there, so he's staying home." It was a woman's voice. Firm, laced with a hint of fear.

Looking around the corner, Harry saw a glass door at the end of the hall, the silhouettes of two people playing across its smoky front.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but Dr. Brown says it's for the best."

"Dr. Brown's not the authority in charge, is he?"

"I trust his opinion more than old Doc Crawford's," the man retorted.

Too wrapped up in trying to pick out what they could be talking about, Harry missed the next step with his foot and fell forward, catching himself against the wall with a loud _bang!_ "Ouch!" He wasn't sure if he should rub his head or his wrist, for both were throbbing painfully.

The glass door opened.

"Who's out-- James! Harry!"

Looking at the woman who stood as still as if she was petrified by the sight of him, Harry's mouth fell open. It was his mother. Her face was tired and her eyes--her glowing, lively, green eyes--were round with surprise. Harry suddenly felt very much like he was going to pass out.

"What do you mean, 'Harry?' What are you...." The man who came out of the other room behind Lily was short-ish with messy black hair. "Harry," he breathed.

A huge lump had formed in Harry's throat and he could barely breathe. This was a dream. This was some terrible, wonderful dream that he never wanted to wake up from.

Lily suddenly came to life, closing the distance between her and Harry in two long strides. She wrapped an arm around him carefully. There were tears in her eyes. "You're awake," she said softly.

James, too, began to move, walking into the adjoining room briskly. "He's going to fall over again. Get him to the couch." He cleared the throw pillows off the nearest end of the couch, then he dashed across the room and picked up a phone that was hanging on the wall, furiously dialing.

Once Harry was safely seated on an over-stuffed, brown leather couch, his mother's supportive arm still around him, he finally managed to speak. "Mum?"

"Oh, honey. We thought you'd never--I mean, we hoped, but they said--" She broke off, her voice failing. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I was so scared," she whispered, pulling him into a gentle hug.

_What's going on? Am I dead?_ Harry wondered. Deciding there could have been stranger answers to this riddle, he voiced his concern.

With a short, nervous sort of laugh, James sat on Harry's other side. He almost seemed afraid to touch him. "No, Harry. You're fine. You'll be fine. Dr. Crawford is on his way over."

"Where am I? What happened?" Trying to look around too quickly, Harry ended up having to lean forward and press his hands to his forehead in an effort to stop the nauseating dizziness that swept over him.

Lily brushed his hair back. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"There was a car accident."

"No, that was lie," he explained hurriedly. "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon only said that--"

Looking confused, James said, "Vernon and Petunia?" He looked slightly disgusted at having to say their names. "We haven't seen them since you were small. What brought them into your mind?"

"Since I was-- But just last summer--" The worried looks on his parents' faces made him stop. Harry wasn't sure what was going on, but he was starting to get the feeling that he should shut up and let them explain a few things before they started to think he was crazy. "A car accident?" he asked.

"Last month," his mother explained. "You hit your head and didn't wake up. The doctors said-- But it doesn't matter what they said, because they were wrong. You're awake, you're fine."

"_I_ was in a car accident?"

"Lily, let him be for a minute. He's still probably pretty dazed." Looking at Harry, James said, "I bet you're hungry, huh?"

Now that he thought about it, he was hungry. He was starving. The thought that he hadn't eaten in a month sounded very plausible. "Yeah."

"I'll get you something."

"We don't know if he should be eating," Lily said. "He's been on those vitamin injections. Get him some water." She smoothed Harry's hair back. "You can have something after the doctor's looked at you."

"All right." Settling into the idea that he wasn't dead, though he wasn't sure he agreed that he was "fine," Harry began to look around the house. It was decent sized and tastefully decorated. There was a tall potted plant next to the fireplace and the drapes were light green. On the mantel, he saw several pictures of a boy smiling, playing, and covered with ice cream. He squinted at them. They were of _him_!

"Those are pictures of me?"

Walking into the room and setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of Harry--(With a small glare, Lily slipped a coaster under the glass.)--James followed his line of sight. "Yep. All except that last one over there. That ugly mutt's your Uncle Sirius. You remember him, don't you?"

"Sirius." Knowing he should probably stay put, but not really caring, Harry stood quickly and crossed the room with a few shaky steps. He picked up the picture.

"Harry! Sit down!" Lily was at his side in an instant.

Ignoring her, Harry stared at the picture. It was Sirius. He was sitting on a motorcycle, his long, black hair loose around his shoulders. He was grinning. "He's alive?" Harry's voice shook terribly.

"Yeah. He's fine." There was concern in her voice.

Harry looked over at the telephone James used earlier. And then he noticed a television set in the corner. The still pictures in the upstairs hallway.... A muggle house....

The doorbell suddenly rang, bringing Harry back from his thoughts.

"That should be Dr. Crawford." James strode to the hall, returning with a short man with thick glasses and a medical case. "See. I told you. Up, and everything."

"Well, that is quite the surprise." The old man motioned stiffly with his arm. "He really should not be standing up though."

"I tried to tell him just that," Lily replied, trying to steer Harry back to the couch.

Harry complied with little more than an odd look at the short doctor, Sirius's picture still clutched in his hands. He sat down heavily.

"Now, let's get a good look at you, Mr. Potter." Dr. Crawford bustled by the coffee table and set his bag down. Leaning in close to Harry's face, his eyes, already magnified by his huge glasses, growing bigger, he yanked down on Harry's lower eyelid. "Hmm," he said importantly.

James and Lily stood beside each other on the other side of the room, looking on expectantly.

"'Hmm,' what?" Harry asked.

"Your pupils seems fine." The little man pulled a long stethoscope out of his black bag. "Let's have a listen. Shirt up."

Harry set down the picture he clung to and lifted his button down pajama shirt. He winced when the cold metal touched his bare chest.

"Hmm." Dr. Crawford's face crinkled up with thought. "A couple deep breaths." After listening for a moment, he hmm-ed again and pulled the white plugs out of his ears. "Well, he seems all right. We'll want to go ahead and do some tests. Some CT scans." Rubbing his hand repeatedly over his mostly bald head, the doctor looked perplexed. "I just don't understand it."

"He's better?" James asked in disbelief.

"I won't say anything until I see the scans, but he seems to be fine. If you'll follow me back to the hospital, we'll get those done up right away. Just in case anything _is_ going to come up...."

"Harry, honey, you sit there," Lily said, grinning broadly. "I'll get you a jacket."

"He doesn't need a jacket. It's nearly eighty-five degrees out there," James protested.

"He's in his pajamas!" she hissed, leaving the room.

Dr. Crawford, meanwhile, was poking and prodding Harry's ribs. "That hurt?"

"No."

He poked harder. "That?"

Scowling, Harry said, "A bit."

"Hmm."

Harry glared at him. Looking over the man's head, he saw his father trying not to laugh. His father...

Could this really be real? Could his parents really be alive? It seemed like a cruel joke. Somewhere the Weasley twins were going to pop up and start laughing, shouting, "Fooled you, didn't we?" But they didn't.

"Any memory loss? Do you remember things all right?"

"Me? Oh, umm, I don't..." How was he supposed to explain this? Yes, he remembered quite a bit very well. All of it was about a world with magic and a giant castle of a school called Hogwarts.... "I remember Sirius," he finally said, pointing to the picture.

Lily walked back into the room. "I found your soccer jacket. It was hanging in the laundry room."

Dr. Crawford's brow drew tightly. He seemed to be thinking very hard. "Do you remember your parents?"

Harry was suddenly very aware of his parents staring at him. "Well, yeah, but it's weird. I had a...I guess it was a dream. And they were in it, but none of this," he motioned to the room, "was. I know who they are. I mean, I recognize them, but that's it."

"But you know Uncle Sirius?" James asked.

"He was in my dream, so I recognize him, but I don't know.... I mean, he could be different. In my dream, he went to school with you guys," he explained, looking at Lily and James. "He was really popular and he was really...reckless."

James laughed. "That's Siri."

"Mmm," Lily agreed with somewhat less enthusiasm.

"Well," said Dr. Crawford, snapping his black medical bag shut, "it's not uncommon to have slight memory loss after something as traumatic as you went though. However, it usually comes back in a few days. We'll keep an eye on it." He started to the door. "Shall we?"

Lily hurried to Harry's side and helped him up, wrapping his jacket around his shoulders. She led him out into the sunlight.

What he saw was amazing: a neighborhood with several houses lining both sides of the long street. The houses were all different colors. Some were two-story, some one. They all had well-kept lawns and flowerbeds. Towards the far end of the street, several younger boys were playing basketball in the street. It was a little like Private Drive, but somehow not as oppressive.

Harry smiled.

After a very short, quiet car ride, Harry and his parents walked up the wide steps to the hospital. Sitting in the waiting room, Harry couldn't help but stare at everyone. Was this his real life? But Hogwarts had seemed so real...

"Something wrong, Harry?"

He shook his head. "I just.... I can't believe it. I mean, I thought...." He didn't want to tell his father he thought he was dead, but at the same time, he didn't know how he should explain what he was feeling. "I just had a very weird dream. It felt so real."

Smiling, James rubbed his son's shoulder. "Well, it's over. You can forget about it."

"Yeah." _It's over._ A burst of relief and happiness almost too big to keep inside exploded in Harry's chest. No Voldemort. No Death Eaters. His parents--his friends--were all OK. It was just a dream, and now everything was all right.

Harry suddenly felt a burning desire to know what was real and what wasn't. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you have a friend named Remus, too?"

"You don't remember Uncle Remus?"

"Do I call him 'uncle?'" he asked uncertainly.

"Well, you used to."

"Oh. Is Sir--Uncle Sirius my godfather?"

Lily nodded. "God help you if anything actually happened to us."

Harry couldn't help but grin. Maybe this new world wasn't so much different from the old one. He started to wonder if everyone from Hogwarts was there. Ron, Hermione....

"Harry Potter?"

Standing up, Harry nodded to the nurse. "Right here."

She led him down the hall to a changing room and handed him a set of clothes. "You can get dressed right in there. When you're finished, go into the office across the hall, right there, and the doctor will be in shortly."

Walking into the bathroom, Harry looked around. It was dim and smelled of too much bleach. Catching a glimpse of his reflection out of the corner of his eye, Harry stopped and turned to the mirror, staring. There, on his forehead, was a perfect lighting bolt scar. He reached up and touched it lightly with his fingertips. It was still stinging slightly.

Getting changed quickly, Harry walked across into the office where his parents were waiting. "How did I get this scar?"

"In the car accident," Lily explained. "Don't worry about it, honey. It doesn't show very much."

"Yeah," James agreed. "And if it doesn't go away completely, you can make up some war story for it. Impress the girls."

A chill went down Harry's spine. To have anyone, let alone his parents, talking about his scar like it was nothing more impressive or important that an ugly mark disturbed and unsettled him.

"James, I'm sure the last thing he's thinking about right now is impressing girls."

Before either James or Harry could reply, the door opened and short, little Dr. Crawford walked in. "Let's get you in the machine and see what there is to see, shall we?" he said pleasantly.

**~~***~~**

Two hours later, back in his pajamas, Harry walked up the path to the front door of his new house. It still didn't feel familiar in any way, but he was sure it would soon. The doctor had cleared him as healthy. He had to go back for a few follow ups to make sure nothing was going to take a bad turn, but other than that, he was free and clear to resume his normal life, with a few minor, temporary restrictions.

When they walked through the door, James, grinning, picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Sirius and Remus should know he's better," James said defensively.

"You can call them, but I don't want them coming over. Harry needs his rest."

As much as Harry appreciated his mother's concern for him, the thought of getting to see Sirius was just too tempting. "I feel fine. I've been resting for a month," he pleaded.

Lily looked back at him.

"Mom, please?" It was funny how easy it was to call her that. He had to smile to himself.

"I don't want you over-doing anything."

"I swear I won't. I'll sit right on the couch and I won't move at all. Promise. Just, please, let them come over."

"Yeah, honey, please?" James added.

Sighing, she shook her head. "I can tell I'm going to have a handful with both of you running around again. All right. But you stay sitting!"

James had already finished dialing Sirius's phone number.

Grinning, Harry followed his mother into the kitchen. It was small and cute, decorated in blue with little white geese. He watched Lily as she opened the refrigerator and took out some sliced ham.

"You can have--What is it?"

Walking over to her, Harry hugged her tightly. "I love you, Mom." Now that he had a moment to just think about it, he felt overwhelmed. His parents were really, truly _alive_. He could see them and talk to them....

"Sirius is coming...." James's voice trailed off as he walked into the room.

Letting go of his mother, Harry crossed the room and hugged James. "I love you, Dad."

James hugged him back for a second, messing up his hair even more, before pushing him away and hold him by the shoulders at arm's length. "Love you, too," he answered somewhat awkwardly.

Harry looked at Lily, who was wiping tears off her cheeks again. "Go sit," she ordered gently. "I'll bring your lunch when it's done."

Letting go of Harry's shoulders, James glanced at the clock over the stove. "Game's gonna start soon. I'll grab some sodas and meet you on the couch." He messed up Harry's hair one last time then padded towards the refrigerator.

Grinning, Harry watched him for a moment, then turned back to the hall. The trail from the kitchen to the living room already felt familiar. As he sat on the couch and reached for the TV remote, he spotted the picture of Sirius where he'd left it on the coffee table. The remote forgotten, he picked up the photo and started looking at it again.

"Tried to get you a Coke, but Mom said water only for a couple days. Sorry."

"It's fine. Thanks."

James set the drinks on the table with a low _thump_.

"Use a coaster!" Lily called at the sound.

Making a face, James scooped two coasters out of the little holder and set the glasses on top of them. Settling onto the couch, James grabbed the remote and stretched his legs out as he clicked the TV on and flipped to the sports channel.

Looking down at the red and gold soccer jacket Lily had put on him earlier, Harry recalled Dr. Crawford's warning to stay away from soccer at least until his next check up. _Soccer...._ "Dad?"

Still looking at the TV, James raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"

"Do I play soccer for school?"

James grinned proudly. "Best center Eldwood's ever seen. 'Cept for maybe your old man."

Feeling troubled, Harry faced the TV. He watched as the pre game stats rolled down the screen. He didn't remember ever playing soccer. He only remembered Quidditch, that funny game his subconscious must have made up, with broomsticks and Snitches.... He suddenly ached to fly. Was it strange to remember an imaginary sensation of zooming through the air so vividly?

"Do I have a friend named Ron?" he asked suddenly.

Looking away from the stats on the TV, James said, "Course you do. Since you were little." He leaned forward and took his soda.

Harry looked back at the TV. He suddenly felt strange and uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what he should say to his father. He'd never really thought about what he would say if he met James because Dumbledore had made it very clear during first year that he never iwould/i meet him. It was a fantasy he'd banished from his mind almost completely.

"Wheaton's stats are up."

"Oh," Harry said stupidly.

A heavy silence fell around the sound of the announcer who was commenting on the players. Just as it reached an unbearable level, there was a loud bang from the front hall and a deep, throaty voice called, "Coming in!"

James looked up and started to open his mouth, but Harry beat him to the greeting. Completely forgetting his promise to stay sitting, he jumped off the couch and half-ran to the hall. "Sirius!" As he rounded the corner to the hall, Harry skidded to a stop.

What he saw was not the Sirius he knew. The man who stood before him was healthy and handsome. His hair was full and clean, and his eyes were light and dancing. For a moment, Harry didn't recognize him. Then, Sirius laughed and Harry knew exactly who he was.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty!"

Harry nearly jumped on Sirius, hugging him as tight as he could.

Laughing again, Sirius scruffed up his hair roughly. "Glad to see you, too, kid-o."

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry let go of Sirius and the two turned with slight horror to see Lily standing in the open doorway leading to the kitchen. She was wielding a spatula and looking lethal. She jabbed the spatula towards the living room. "Couch, now!"

Looking sheepish, but grinning uncontrollably, Harry walked back into the living room.

"Good to see you, too, Lily," Sirius said with a charming smile.

"You get him wound up, and you're out the door," she threatened.

"Yes, ma'am." Still grinning, Sirius walked into the living room and sat down between James and Harry. He laughed and shoved Harry's arm lightly. "Should've known you'd have the game on. First thing out of a coma and you wanna watch sports. You're definitely your dad's son."

"Wasn't a coma," James answered, his eyes alight. "I think he was just playing to get out of the last weeks of school."

"Naw, that's something you'd do. Harry's a good boy, aren't you?"

Grinning, Harry shrugged. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure what kind of boy he was. He supposed he was probably like he'd been in his dream.

"Hey, I was just working on the bike when you called. Putting a new fuel injector in her. You and Harry should come over tomorrow and check her out."

James shook his head as he jerked his thumb towards the kitchen and mouthed, "Lily."

Sirius grinned and whispered, "You're one whipped puppy."

Just then, Lily walked into the room with two plates of pan-fried ham and toast. She handed Harry his plate. "There's some on the stove, if you haven't eaten, Sirius."

"Thanks. I'm starved," he said, standing up and stepping over James's legs.

"Yeah. At least this puppy doesn't have to starve on his own cooking," James called, sitting up and taking his plate from his wife.

Lily sat down where Sirius had been. "Remus isn't coming?"

James shook his head. "He has to work all day--planning and meetings. But he said he'd try to make it over tonight. He has a doctor's appointment, too, though, so he's not sure he'll be able to."

Lily nodded solemnly.

Before Harry could ask what Remus was going to the doctor's for, Sirius returned with a huge plate of ham and toast coated thickly with jelly. "Hey, Betty Crocker and I are best friends," he commented to James as if their conversation hadn't been interrupted.

James looked up from his plate. "And that's why your gut's starting to stick out. Too much boxed food'll do that."

Sirius snorted dismissively and squeezed onto the far end of the couch next to Harry. "I like the bachelor life. So, Harry, what's soccer looking like for you?"

Harry shrugged, gulping down his mouthful of ham. "The doctor said not to get too near a field at least until next month when I go back for a check up."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, sort of."

"You'll find something else to do between now and then, though."

"Yeah. What about you? What have you been up to?"

"Nothing too important. Just working. I got a new bike a couple weeks ago. A hobby thing, just to fix up."

"Cool."

"Don't know what to name her. I'll probably wait 'til I paint her to pick something."

Settling into an easy conversation with Sirius, Harry could almost forget things had changed so drastically over the past few hours. It felt familiar, just as if he was back at Grimmauld, laughing and having lunch with his godfather. Their chatter went on well into the game, and Harry only looked at the TV when James pointed out that the team they were suppose to be cheering for had made a goal.

When they game ended, Lily stood up and took the dirty plates. "Harry, why don't you go up stairs and get on some regular clothes?"

Harry laughed a little when he noticed he was still wearing his pajamas and jacket. "All right."

As he went up the stairs, he took his time, really looking at the picture on the wall. He recognized himself at various ages. There was a family portrait from a few years ago close to the top of the stairs, and most of the single pictures of Harry were of him in his sports uniform.

When he got to his room, he walked around it, looking more closely at the posters, and riffling through the books on his desk. There were textbooks and magazines he didn't remember ever seeing before. When he got to his dresser, he picked up a framed picture and examined it closely. There were several boys in red and goal uniforms, all grinning out at him. The person in the middle, holding up a tall trophy, was him. Next to him, his arm thrown around Harry's neck, grinning, was Ron.

Harry set the picture down and sat on his bed. Nothing felt right except Sirius, but he supposed he would get use to things soon enough. He had been knocked out for a month, after all. And Dr. Crawford said it was expected that he'd need some time to readjust to his life.

TBC

**~~***~~**

I just have to say I had a sucky time trying to figure out the new story posting thing...I had to post it, like, three times before it was right! I think it's been too long since I published anything here. Bad Suppi....


	2. In Which Old Friends Are Met

Chapter 2.... When I write I don't--usually--break it into chapters right away and as I'm doing so now I'm realizing exactly how long this thing is. It's exciting, but daunting, too, especially since I had planned on adding a bit in the middle.... Oh well. As long as it's all well-written, it should OK, right?! -_-*

There are no real notes about this section, so I leave you to your reading and much reviewing. ^_^

**~~***~~**

The next two days passed slowly. James, who worked as a manager and assistant coach for the junior league London soccer team, was away most of the day. When he was home, he spent a lot of time on the phone. Lily was a part-time Chemistry tutor at the local college. It was with reluctance and a kiss on the forehead that she left Harry each morning.

Left to his own devices for the most part, Harry spent his time wandering around the house, looking in drawers and on shelves, and trying to recognize grandparents and friends in photos. He didn't see much that looked familiar.

On his second day of investigating the drawers of the desk in his room, he did find a class ring for Eldwood, claiming its owner would graduate in 1998. The ring itself was wide and masculine, the stone round, heavy-looking, and as solid and black as midnight. His brow furrowed, he'd brought it downstairs to the parlor where his mother was sitting, finishing some study sheets she was making up for one of the students she was helping.

"Mum?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Is this my class ring?"

Looking up, Lily smiled. "Oh, yes. That thing. I completely forgot about it." She took it from him. "You got it last year. They put the wrong birthstone in it though. It should have been a ruby," she said, rubbing the smooth curve of the black stone with her thumb.

"Is that onyx?" he asked.

"It's more matte than that. I think it's black pearl." Looking back up at him, she explained, "The jeweler probably just got July confused with June. Your father and I offered to pay to have it corrected, but you said you liked it the way it was." She held it back out to him.

"Oh. Did you and Dad get it for me?"

"No. You said you bought it with the money you got for your birthday. I don't know how I forgot to tell you I'd put it in your drawer. You always had it on: it should have been odd to see you without it."

Harry smiled a little. "Thanks." Leaving the room, he went back up the stairs, preoccupied with looking at the black pearl and seeing the way the light shown and spread over the polished surface of the stone. It wasn't a ball, the way most pearls were. It had been polished down to fit into the ring in a curve that rose just slightly above the edge of the setting.

_Wonder how much I paid for this thing_, he mused. _It must have been really expensive._

When he got back to his room, Harry set the ring on his desk and looked at it again. It was yet another thing--like soccer--that he seemed to appreciate so much before, but which held no attraction for him now. There was nothing that drew him to wanting to wear the ring: and besides, he wasn't very much into jewelry. And it wasn't like it had been a present, really. He had bought it himself. Lily hadn't seemed too fond of the thing either, so he was sure it wouldn't mean anything to his parents if he didn't wear it.

After a moment, he opened the desk drawer and put the ring back in it.

By the end of his third day at home, Harry still hadn't yet managed to work up the courage to call Ron, though Lily had reminded him gently that the number was written on the list in the front cover of the phone directory, if he was having a hard time remembering it.

Sitting by himself, Harry sighed and picked up the phone. He had been staring at the open directory for ten minutes, studying Ron's unfamiliar phone number.

He smiled suddenly as he looked down at the phone. "Fellytone." His smile fell. He suddenly felt homesick for the Weasley's crowded, crazy funhouse, with all its odds and ends, and random magic bursting from unexpected places at odd intervals. He sighed again. Just as he was about to push the TALK button, the phone rang.

Harry jumped, dropping the receiver on the floor. It rang again and he scooped it up. "Hello?" It felt very odd to be talking on a telephone. No one called him at the Dursleys'--when he had _dreamed_ he was at the Dursleys'--and even the action of fitting the phone beside his head felt foreign.

"Harry?"

The unease that had swelled inside him melted instantly at the familiar voice. "Remus! Hi."

"Hello! It's so good to hear your voice. How are you?"

"I'm all right."

"Yeah? You sound good. Sorry I haven't been up to see you yet. I'm under strict orders to take it easy, and that means no driving. Not for a couple more days, anyway."

A sick shock jolted in Harry's stomach. That was right. This Remus was ill, too. All thoughts of James's passing comment during the game had evaporated once Sirius had started telling Harry about his new bike, but now the worry he had felt at Lily's solemn attitude returned full-force. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

Remus chuckled. "Nothing more serious than usual. Don't sound so worried."

Harry only relaxed marginally. What was "usual?" He racked his brain, but couldn't find even the shadow of a memory of what was wrong with Remus besides his being a werewolf--which wasn't true, so it was a useless piece of information. "You'll be better by the weekend, right?" he asked tentatively.

"Definitely. In fact, I was calling to invite you and your folks over for a big roast dinner at my place on Saturday to celebrate both of us getting back on our feet."

"That would be great!"

"Well, I should get going. I still have plans to write out. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. My roll sheets came in the mail for next term. Looks like we'll be seeing each other a bit this year."

"Roll sheets? You're teaching? I'll be in your class?"

Remus laughed. "I've always taught! But yes, you'll be in my class."

Harry couldn't help but think things couldn't be turning out more perfect if he'd plotted them out himself. "That's great!"

"I'm glad you're so enthusiastic. Most kids your age don't get this excited about World Civics."

A weight suddenly dropped into Harry's stomach. It just occurred to him that he couldn't think of a single class he'd ever taken besides the ones at Hogwarts! He could have managed a passable foot of parchment on the giant wars, but try to pass a muggle civics class?!

After a second of silence, Remus said, "Well, I should get going. Pass my hellos on to your parents, and have them call me about Saturday."

"OK. I will. Bye." Harry hung up the phone numbly, feelings of mild distress building inside him. He stood up, the directory and Ron's number forgotten, and jogged up the stairs to his room. Pushing aside the magazines, Harry took the thick text titled "Algebra II" and sank onto his bed. He flipped through the pages, hoping desperately to find something that looked familiar. It could have been written in Gobbledegook for all he understood. Harry flopped back on his bed.

_It'll all come back with time_, he told himself. He'd been repeating those words, first intoned to him by Dr. Crawford, a lot.

"Harry! I'm home!"

Harry jumped off his bed and ran down the stairs. Lily was standing in the doorway, trying to kick off her shoes as she juggled two full grocery bags.

"I've got those, Mum." Harry took the bags and started towards the kitchen. "How was work?"

"All right. Busier than usual. Summer classes are just starting and we always get a heavy flow of freshmen in the first few weeks of term. Just until they get their feet on the ground."

Sorting through the bags halfheartedly, Harry asked, "Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"What's going to happen when school starts up?"

"That's not for another month and a half."

"Yeah, I know. But I was just wondering-- I mean, there are still a lot of things I don't remember. What if I can't-- I mean, you learn things based on what you learned previous years, and I don't feel like I've learned anything."

"Oh, honey." Lily set down the grapefruit she was about to put away and ran her fingers through Harry's hair, smoothing it back out of his face. "Don't you worry about that. It'll come back when you see it. And if it makes you feel better, we can buy your books early and look over them together. I bet you'd be surprised how much you remember."

Not feeling reassured, as he'd already tried looking through his old textbook, Harry just nodded. "Remus called today."

"Did he? Good. How is he feeling?"

"Better. He wants us to go over for dinner Saturday."

"That sounds like fun. It's been ages since we've been to his apartment."

"He got his roll sheets. I'll be in his class next term."

"Well, that will definitely help." Lily, who was peering into the refrigerator, handed Harry a Tupperware container. She wrinkled her nose. "Throw that out. No, don't open it! Just throw the whole thing in the trash. God knows how long it's been in here."

Harry did as he was told, then went back, leaned on the refrigerator door, and watched his mother sorting through the rest of the leftovers.

"Did you talk to Ron today?"

"I was going to, but Remus called and I got sidetracked."

"I'm sure he's worried about you. He kept calling for weeks after the accident to see how you were doing."

"I'll call him after dinner." Harry handed Lily the eggs, then, sighing, walked into the living room. He turned the TV on and flipped through a couple channels.

He didn't want to call Ron. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to see Ron himself, but more that he didn't want to feel even more weird around people he was suppose to know and care for. Harry loved his parents very much, but they were getting harder and harder to be around. The more obvious he was about his lack of interest in soccer, the more James seemed to pull away from him. And Lily.... She was wonderful, but she definitely seemed use to a more independent son who didn't seek out her opinions. When Harry felt like he just needed to talk to someone, she seemed to give him the short answers designed to shut children up and superficially sooth over difficult problems. He could tell she loved him; it wasn't that. He just wasn't sure how close he was suppose to be with her. After the moments of disappointment he'd experienced, Harry wasn't looking forward to meeting Ron and risking finding out that his best friend was a stranger, too.

Suddenly the front door opened. "Honey, I'm home!"

From the kitchen, Harry could hear his mother call, "In here."

As James strode by the living room doorway, he tossed his suit jacket on the couch. "Hey, Harry."

"Hi, Dad."

Harry slumped deeper into the couch. _Maybe I dreamed what I wanted them to be_, he mused. _Maybe I dreamed Ron like I want my best friend to be. And my parents-- No! There's no way I would want them dead! Maybe not dead_, he amended, _but willing to sacrifice for me. To save me. It's like I don't think they love me. But I know they love me!_

James came into the living room and dropped onto the couch. He passed Harry a soda and asked, "How was your day?"

Popping the tab on the can, he shrugged. "Same as yesterday. And the day before."

James sighed. "Well, I was thinking you're probably in good enough shape to get out of the house for a bit. And, more importantly," he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "your mother agrees. Do you want to head over to Sirius's with me? He's still hopping up and down to get us to see that new bike of his."

Harry sat up. He hadn't seen Sirius since that day he'd woken up. "That would be cool."

"Thought you'd think so. I'll just get changed and we'll leave. Make sure to wear something you don't mind messing up. Knowing Sirius he'll try to get you to change the oil, or something."

"All right." Harry finished his soda, then stood up. Maybe he would be able to put off calling Ron another day if they were out late....

**~~***~~**

"Isn't she a beaut?"

Harry cocked his head to side. "She's something," he agreed.

"She's a rust bucket," James said bluntly. He flicked a few flakes of rust off the side of the bike with the toe of his sneaker.

"Right now. Just give me another couple weeks with her and she'll be the envy of the town."

"Does it run?" Harry asked skeptically.

James laughed.

Sirius huffed slightly. "Not at the moment. I still have to put the fuel lines back. A little tweak to the engine and she'll purr like a kitten with a brand new catnip mouse." He stroked the handlebars lovingly.

Shaking his head, Harry sat on the nearest crate. While James and Sirius continued discussing the modifications Sirius wanted to make, Harry looked around the garage. It had four bays and two of them were filled: one with a shiny, hunter green BMW, and the other with a white, vintage Mustang convertible. Harry never would have pegged Sirius as a mechanic, but seeing him in the setting, his oil-stained coveralls unzipped and the sleeves tied at the waist over an equally oil-stained tank top, it seemed to fit him somehow. And it wasn't some junky gas station auto repair garage. It looked pretty hi-tech and up-scale, by the way service garages went.

Suddenly, an old man stuck his head out the side door of the office. "Sirius, you got that BMW off the lift?"

"I thought it wasn't due out until tomorrow."

"The fella wants to pick it up tonight if the work is done on it."

"Work's done. I'll put it down and give it a once-over. Tell him to give me a half hour." The old man disappeared and Sirius sighed. "I tell you, I hated that git when we were in school and I hate him now." He walked over and punch the lift button.

Harry watched the BMW slowly descend to the ground. "Who's car is it?"

James snorted. "Can't tell a Malfoy-mobile when you see one?"

"Malfoy? Lucius?"

"The one and only," Sirius said importantly. "Glad we were only stuck with him one year. You go to school with his kid, right?"

"Draco? Yeah." Harry didn't know why he was so surprised. If Sirius and Remus and Ron were here, why wouldn't Draco and Lucius be here, too?

"He's a git, too. Just like his dad," James stated informatively.

"Don't surprise me." Sirius opened the driver's side door and turned the key. The engine purred to life. "I should cut his brake lines," he commented casually, killing the engine and putting the keys in his pocket.

James snickered.

"All right. Engine sounds good. Harry, make yourself useful and grab one of those rags."

Harry took a rag from the pile on the counter beside him and walked towards the car.

"There's polish in that bucket. Just go over the door handles, trunk, hood. You know, anywhere that might've been touched." While Harry wiped the car down, Sirius flitted around it like a humming bird on a blooming bush, turning knobs and flicking switches seemingly at random. "Looks in order." He closed the door and tossed the keys to Harry.

The only thing that kept them from flying passed him were his Seeker reflexes-- _No, soccer reflexes_, he corrected.

"Ever wanna drive a BMW?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "D-drive?"

"Yeah. Just pull it out into the lot so it'll be ready for Malfoy."

"Oh, no. I shouldn't."

"Come on," James chided. "You could run it into the door."

"I might really run it into the door," Harry retorted seriously.

"No, you won't. It's easy. Just hop in and pull her out. Nice and slow."

Seeing that Sirius wasn't going to take no for an answer, Harry walked to the car door as if he was walking to his death. If he so much a put a scratch on the car.... He shuttered. Sliding into the driver's seat, he was surprised to note how good it felt. He'd never been behind the wheel of a car that he remembered, but it did come with a certain satisfaction. If only his heart wasn't pounding out of his chest.

James and Sirius chuckled as he pulled the seat belt across his chest. They might think it was funny, but Harry wasn't taking any chances. Carefully, he put the key in the ignition. He turned it, wincing as the engine ground into itself before he let go and it settled out in that rich, contented purr.

"You don't have to hold it there. Just a quick turn and let it go," Sirius admonished.

"Now what do I do?" he asked.

"Jamie, you can't tell me you never let the kid drive!"

"I let him drive! Push in the brake then shift into gear." James was glaring at Harry like a bad puppy who had peed on the carpet in front of company.

Harry jammed his foot down onto one of the petals and the engine revved loudly. He lifted his foot quickly. James and Sirius were too busy laughing to point out the obvious: that was the wrong petal. Before they could, he pushed down the other petal and eased the shift into drive.

"It's not so hard," he muttered to himself, ignoring his dad's snickers.

"Easy on the gas, Harry," Sirius said, actually looking a little concerned.

"I know." Harry took his foot off the brake and slowly pressed down on the gas. There was a short delay and then the car lurched forward. Harry slammed on the brake with a deafening screech, sending himself flying forward until the seat belt caught and slammed him back into the seat.

"Easy!"

"I was being easy!" he yelled back.

"Are you sure you should let him play with Malfoy's car? He really might ruin it," James suggested, genuinely looking concerned.

"He's fine, if he just goes easy."

"Get in front of the car and see how easy I go," he muttered. Working up his courage to try again, Harry eased the petal down and the car slowly began to creep out of the garage bay. He turned the wheel and pulled it along the front of the office then stopped it sharply, squealing the tires again, and put it in park. His heart was still busting through his ribs as he turned the engine off and climbed out of the car.

"Hope you don't feel too offended if I don't offer you a summer job," Sirius said as he and James walked out into the sunlight.

"Hope you don't feel too offended if I say good," Harry replied, holding out the keys.

Sirius opened his mouth to answer when a black Porsche pulled into the parking lot and squealed to a stop just a couple feet away from Harry.

Harry jumped. He jumped a second time when James dropped a hand on his shoulder. Looking up at his father, Harry was surprised to see the protective glint in his eyes.

"You all right?"

"Y-yeah."

The tinted window of the Porsche rolled down and Draco Malfoy, sunglasses perched on top of his stylishly disheveled, gleaming blond hair, peered out. When he saw Harry, he hesitated for only a second before he spoke. "Potter? Good to see you up and around. Awful what happened. Heard all about it." He sounded like a smooth salesman trying to win Harry's confidence with flattery.

Harry just glared back at him, unable to think of what to say. Obviously, this Draco was just the same as the other one.

The Porsche's passenger door opened and Lucius stepped out looking slightly rumpled. "Ah, good. Everything is in order, I trust?" He stopped and looked with mild horror at Harry, who was still holding his car keys.

"Right as rain," Sirius said lightly, taking the keys out of Harry's hand and offering them to Lucius.

Lucius, his lips pressed into a thin line, took his keys. "You have my card on file."

"Yes, sir," Sirius answered, watching Lucius march towards his car.

Lucius sat in the driver's seat, turned the car on, and pulled out of the parking lot.

"See you around, Potter," Draco said, then leaned forward to turn up his radio as he rolled up his window. Heavy bass pounding in the air behind him, Draco backed up and peeled out of the parking lot.

Sirius snorted with disgust. "I hate him."

"'S all right," James said.

"He's a real prick."

"Just walk it off."

"Shut up."

James grinned. "Now let's play with that bike."

They spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around the garage, talking and laughing. Not much work got done on the bike, but Harry soon realized that it wasn't suppose to. Every now and then, someone would run sandpaper over it, but that was as close to actually joining the activities that the bike came. For the most part, it just sort of sat there in the midst of them, being their reason to gather together.

_So this is male bonding_, Harry thought two hours later as he and James said goodbye and headed to their car. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the ritual, but no one had mentioned soccer, so he supposed he should chock it up as a good afternoon out with his dad.

**~~***~~**

Harry sighed, once again sitting on the couch with his parents, watching TV. It was officially day five and he was surprised to finally realize how boring his life was. Not just how boring it was, but how much he wasn't enjoying himself. Back when he was ducking Death Eaters and sneaking around Snape, he had lamented how complicated everything was. Now, he felt like a good, life-and-death struggle against insurmountable odds might be just the thing he needed.

"Did you call Ron last night like you said you were going to?"

"No, Mom. We got in late."

Lily looked at him the same way Hermione use to when she found he'd been skiving homework.

Hermione! Why hadn't he thought of her? She had to be here, and she was always good to talk to when he was in a fix! Nearly tripping over himself to get to the phone directory, Harry stumbled over James's feet.

"Easy. I'm sure Ron's phone number won't change in the next ten seconds," he chided.

"Not calling Ron," he said shortly. Taking the directory and the cordless telephone, Harry jogged up the stairs and into his room. Shifting through the pages, Harry searched for Hermione's number. He finally found one marked Dr. and Dr. Granger. That would be it. Hermione's parents were dentists, after all. Punching the numbers, Harry put his ear to the phone and waited.

Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Five--

"Granger residence."

"Hello. Umm, this is Harry. Harry Potter. Is Hermione there?"

"Oh, Harry, dear! How are you?"

"All right."

"That's good to hear. Hermione will be so glad to talk to you. Wait just one minute."

Harry fidgeted with the ties on the quilt at the foot of his bed. It looked handmade.... _Wonder who I got it from_, he mused.

"Harry?"

"Hermione! Thank god!"

"Oh, it really is you! How are you? Are you able to get out of bed? Is there any permanent damage? There's an amazing orthopedic--"

"I'm fine. I'm fine!" he half shouted over her. It felt so good to hear her sounding exactly like he expected her to.

"We were all so worried about you when we heard about the crash." She sounded near tears.

There was an odd swelling in his chest and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to just be with Hermione. Sit with her and listen to her tell him how irresponsible he was, and how she refused to put up with him or help him any more. "Everything's fine. I've actually been awake for a few days. I've just sort of been getting my bearings back."

"How's that going?"

"Not so well. You wouldn't have happened to have read anything about accident-related head trauma, would you?"

"Oh, Harry!"

"It's nothing serious," he said quickly. "Not really. Just a bit of memory loss. The doctor says it's normal, but it's driving me crazy! And I just need to talk about it with someone who might understand, but who isn't poking me with popsicle sticks."

There was a short pause. "Should I come over?"

Relief washed over him. "If it's not too late."

"Not at all. I'll be over in ten minutes."

"Thanks," he said sincerely before hanging up. Taking the directory and the phone back downstairs, he was very aware of how his parents were staring at him as he walked across the living room. "Hermione's going to come over for a little bit. I didn't think you'd mind."

"No, of course not."

"Thanks."

"There's tea in the kettle if you want to offer her when she gets here."

"All right." Harry walked to the kitchen, lifted the kettle lid, put it back, walked in circles by the dining room, made another pass through the living room, looked out the front door, wandered back up the hall--

"Harry, for sanity's sake, sit down!" James ordered. "She'll get here when she gets here."

"Leave him be," Lily said, smiling.

Harry sighed and dropped onto the couch. Just as he was about to pick up the remote, the doorbell rang. He sprang to his feet. "I'll get it!" Forcing himself not to run down the hall, Harry pushed the front door open and was nearly knocked over when Hermione flung her arms around him. He hugged her back.

"I was so scared!"

Harry laughed a little. "I'm fine. Come on, Mom put tea on for us."

As they walked down the hall, Hermione waved to James and Lily, who were watching TV. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter."

"Hello, Hermione."

"Hi."

When they got to the kitchen, Harry took out two cups and poured the tea. It seemed a little odd being with Hermione in a real house and not the common room or the library, but it was still good to see her. He fixed her tea without asking what she took, then held out the cup to her.

"You're suffering memory loss, but you know how I like my tea?" she asked skeptically.

"It's not memory loss, exactly. Let's sit in the parlor."

Once they were both settled in, Harry explained everything that had happened in his "dream," minus a few key details, like the fact that it had been a magic school, and that an evil dark lord named Voldemort had been out to kill him. Listening patiently, that usual, thoughtful look on her face, Hermione merely soaked in everything Harry told her.

"So now here I am. I can't remember how to drive a car--which Dad assures me he taught me--but, like you said, I can make your tea."

"Hmm. It sounds like you were just so wrapped up in the world you created for yourself that coming back here is a bit of a culture shock. Like going to a foreign country where you don't know the customs."

"Exactly! Am I mad?"

Hermione set her cup down and said in a businesslike tone, "Not in the least. Many people who go through such severe physical trauma come out of it different than they were before. A lot of times, people who use to love something--like a sport--" she added pointedly-- "come out of a coma or a brain injury and suddenly find they can't stand it. Or at very least don't like it. You're just having to relearn about your real life, as your mind seems to have erased it in favor of the one you made up for yourself. Luckily, some of the things in your real life do exist in your made-up one, so you have a lot less work to do than if you'd, say, imagined yourself to be the ruler of a herd of gibberish-speaking chipmunks."

Harry laughed. For the first time since waking, he felt somewhat normal. "So, now if I run into anything that I'm not sure about I can ask you and you'll give me honest answers?"

"Of course."

"OK. Did I really love soccer as much as everyone is making out that I should?"

"You were a _fanatic_. But, like I said, you might've changed, and that would be natural."

"What's funny is, I did like sports in my dream. Sort of. I mean, it was a completely ridiculous, made-up sport, but I really liked it and I was the captain of the team before I woke up."

Hermione studied him with a calculating eye. "Exactly how long were you in your other world?"

"That's just it. I have memories of an entire life there."

"Wow. I don't think I've ever read about anything like that. You could be put into a medical journal."

He shifted nervously. "Actually, I'd rather these details not go passed this conversation."

Hermione nodded. "Of course not. Have you called Ron yet? He's been frantic."

"I was going to call him yesterday, but I got busy. Then I went out with my dad to see Sirius."

Nodding again, she said, "You should call him. I won't tell him you're awake because I think it would hurt his feelings to hear it from someone besides you, but you should tell him soon."

"I'm just afraid he'll be different."

"Well, I'll go ahead and describe him to you. He's not very academic and his sports are sort of weak. He has the sensitivity of a tea cozy, and he tends to be thin-skinned and thick-skulled."

Laughing, Harry said, "That's Ron."

"Well good, then. Nothing to worry about." Hermione smiled.

"What about other people?" Harry suddenly thought of Ginny. If this dream was correct, she had a very strong attraction to him, and he to her, but because of Voldemort.... _But Voldemort doesn't exist here_, he reminded himself. "Like...Ginny?"

"Ginny?"

"Ron's sister."

"Ron doesn't have a sister," Hermione said, her brow wrinkled with thought.

"Does he have brothers?"

Waving her hand dismissively, she said, "Oh, loads. There's Bill, Charlie--"

"Percy, Fred, and George," Harry finished for her, feeling dejected as he realized he'd dreamed her. Ginny had been perfect, and she was completely made up.

"Were you and Ginny good friends in your dream?" Hermione asked shrewdly.

A pang of loss burned in his chest. "A little. What about you? No brothers or sisters?"

"Not a one."

Harry nodded slowly, thinking. "Do I have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I've ever known of. You did like Cho Chang for a year or so, but that was painful to watch, and I'm very glad you got over it."

Harry sighed. No Ginny, but that bit with Cho really existed. Why did he seem to keep getting the short end of the stick? After a moment, he said, "I'm not going to call Ron until Sunday. I just need some time to think. But I will call him." Grinning, he asked, "Are you and Ron going out yet?"

Her cheeks going very red, Hermione was just about to reply, when Lily walked into the parlor. "It's getting late. Do you need a ride home?"

"No, thank you." Hermione stood up. "But I should get going. I'll talk to you later. Call if you need anything."

"All right. Thanks."

Hermione hugged Harry quickly, said good night to Lily and James, then left, closing the door carefully behind her.

"It's been a while since Hermione's been over." There was a suggestive light in Lily's green eyes.

Avoiding her hinting, Harry said, "Well, I've been sleeping, haven't I? Who'd want to visit someone they couldn't do anything with?" Before his mother could reply, Harry took the tea cups to the sink and started down the hall. "'Night," he called back to his parents.

"Good night," James answered distractedly, still watching the TV.

"Good night, sweetie."

Harry took the stairs two at a time. Padding heavily into his room, he slumped onto his bed. He heaved a deep sigh. He suddenly missed Hogwarts with an aching so strong his chest hurt. It was so stupid, he told himself, to miss a place he had never really been.

TBC


	3. In Which the Rat Is Present

*angst monkey walks onto the stage and dances*

I'm not huge into angst, but as I was writing it seemed only natural that Harry should have some demons to deal with--he _did _go through a pretty traumatic event, after all. I actually really liked this part of the story: it was fun to write. ^_^

**~~***~~**

"Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty."

Harry groaned and rolled over, covering his head with his blanket.

His bed started shaking violently.

"Stop it!"

"Time to get up."

Sitting up, Harry glared at Sirius, wondering vaguely what the man was doing in his room. "What do you want?"

Sirius laughed a loud, harsh, barking laugh. "You look like hell in the morning."

Running a hand through his hair--which probably just made it stick up worse--Harry said, "Tell me what you want, or leave."

"Your mum says breakfast is ready. But only if you're awake. You don't have to get up if you're still sleeping." He grinned.

Harry glared at him. Before he could comment, Sirius left the room. Stretching and yawning, Harry slid out of bed. He dressed slowly, then went down stairs. There were several loud voices coming from the kitchen.

_Wonder who's here_, Harry thought, his attention focused on trying to recognize the voices.

"I say we go over, drag his lazy butt out of bed, and make him go with us," Sirius's voice stated firmly.

"He's sick, Sirius," Lily's voice replied flatly, not without some annoyance.

"Having a dinner party tomorrow, aren't you? He can't be that sick."

"Leave him be. Poor old guy." Harry picked that out as James.

"Poor old guy, nothing! He's been plain boring since he got that stupid job!"

"Maybe if you got a steady job, you'd be boring, too," an unfamiliar voice retorted shrewdly. No, it wasn't wholly unfamiliar....

Pushing the door to the kitchen open, Harry stopped dead at what he saw. If his stomach wasn't too busy dropping into his feet, he was sure he'd throw up. "W-what...."

Peter Pettigrew, who was leaning against the counter beside Lily, a large plate of pancakes balanced on one hand, smiled. "Hey, Harry. How're you feeling?" His little eyes were shining in his round face. He looked more like the boy from Snape's memory than the man from Voldemort's graveyard, but the voice was too much the same, minus the quivering note of fear and simpering.

Swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat, Harry backed out of the room, closing the door more firmly than he needed to. Not entirely sure where he was going, he turned and half ran out of the house, letting the screen door slam behind him as he made his way down the walk and across the street. He needed to get away. He needed to be somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else. He just had to go....

Harry wandered through the neighborhood blindly. He knew he was getting himself lost, as none of the houses he passed looked remotely familiar, but he didn't care. In fact, the thought of getting so lost that he never found his way back to that place where Lily served Peter breakfast seemed like the perfect idea to Harry.

His legs shaking uncontrollably, Harry crossed a larger street. He seemed to suddenly be moving with purpose, as if something inside him knew where he was suppose to be going. Still feeling slightly lost, he followed the subconscious directions for another ten minutes. When he stopped to assess where he'd made his way to, he was mildly surprised to find himself on a road just down from a large campus, a two-story school building right in its center, several smaller out buildings to its left.

Harry continued curiously, his steps slower, peering at the few cars, the buildings, and the sparse trees around the grounds. Was this his school? A wide, wooden sign reading ELDWOOD'S PREPERTORY ACEDEMY stretched between two high bushes in the middle of the driving loop in front of the main door.

"Eldwood," he mused. That sounded right. At least it sounded like he'd heard it before.

Harry continued to wander towards the building. He jumped when he heard someone yell, "Malfoy!" Spinning stupidly, looking for Draco, Harry noticed the yell had come from around the far side of the school.

As he walked down the path, a wide sports field surrounded by a low chain-linked fence came into view. There were about twenty boys on the field playing soccer, each wearing a red or yellow jersey. Past the soccer field, there was a set of tennis courts right next to a blacktop with several basketball hoops, and still more boys.

Feeling slightly numb, Harry walked up to the fence. Weaving his fingers between the links, he watched the boys playing. At the far end of the field, a tall man stood, his dark, weighted presence leering over the entire field, though he did nothing more than watch the team.

A short boy with blond hair and a yellow jersey called, "Weasley!"

Harry scanned the field for only half a second before he spotted bright red hair. Several inches taller than the next tallest player, Ron stood out sorely in his bright yellow shirt, and Harry wondered how he hadn't noticed him the moment he arrived.

Ron ran down the field towards the boy who had called his name. He dodged between two players with red jerseys, and easily took control of a long pass from the blond. He dribbled up the field with little resistance. Just as he was getting to the goal, he stopped the ball, lined up his shot, pulled his leg back and kicked with what must have been all his effort. Missing spectacularly, he overbalanced, stepping over the ball to keep from falling on his butt.

A flash of red jersey and white-blond hair looped around Ron with a snide laugh and scooped the ball back into play with his right foot: Draco Malfoy had the ball and he was running back down the field at full pelt, heedless of the other players in red who were calling for a pass. He lined up his shot, kicked the ball, and Harry watched as it burned passed the helpless goalie.

"Nice play, Weasel!" Draco called as two other red-clad boys slapped his back. The two boys laughed.

A weight dropped into Harry's stomach. This was his team. This was the game he was suppose to love so much. Tense, he stood and watched several more minutes of the practice. Just like in Quidditch, Ron wasn't particularly good. He had his moments, but they almost seemed to happen by accident. The coach kept rotating him into and out of the goalie position, as if unsure where he would do the least damage.

After the scrimmage, the team lined up in pairs and started passing the soccer ball down the field to each other. Ron, who was paired with Draco, kicked the ball wildly. Draco had to duck to keep from getting hit in the face. It was sailing well out of play, through the air, towards Harry right at eye level. He put his hands up just in time to keep the keep the ball from breaking his nose.

Draco jogged several steps in his direction. "Toss it back, mate!" he yelled.

Harry looked down at the ball he had caught, slightly stunned.

"Toss it back!" Draco repeated tersely, raising his hands to show he was ready to catch it.

Looking up, Harry met Draco's eye.

Finally realizing who Harry was, Draco dropped his hands and sauntered towards the fence. "Well, well. How's the invalid? Hearing's not too keen, at any rate." He sounded more like he was teasing than taunting and the effect was to make Harry's insides turn with unease.

A jumble of questions broke out on the field behind Draco as the rest of the boys turned to see where the ball had gone. "Hey, look!" "It that Potter?" "Harry?"

Smirking, Draco said, "Too bad you can't play." As he strutted forward to take the ball, he had his chest thrown out, displaying a shiny captain's pins on his jersey. "I'm sure you'll be on form next year. Oh, wait, we're leaving school this year, aren't we?"

Though he didn't care that he wouldn't get to play soccer for the year, the purpose behind the jab hit home. His numbness gone, Harry glared at Draco, still gripping the ball between his hands.

"The ball, mate," he repeated easily.

Narrowing his glare, Harry threw the ball over Draco's shoulder to Ron, who had started to jog over to the fence. He met Ron's curious gaze for a moment, then looked away.

"Harry!"

Turning, Harry was only mildly surprised to see Sirius jogging towards him. _Oh, yeah. I did sort of leave, didn't I?_

Sirius opened his mouth, obviously to berate Harry, then stopped when he saw Draco still standing at the fence, smirking. "Come on."

Glancing at Ron, who was still staring after him, the ball dead at his feet, Harry turned and followed Sirius back across the lawn to the black car that was parked by the curb.

Sirius had the decency to wait until they were out of Draco's hearing range to start in on Harry. "What did you think you were doing? Scared your mother half to death, running out like that. She's completely frantic, and your dad and Peter are out looking for you, too."

_Peter_.... Harry's insides turned to ice.

"And here you were, baiting Malfoy--"

"I wasn't baiting him! And it's not like I even came here on purpose!" Harry shouted back angrily.

Jabbing his finger into Harry's chest, Sirius said, "Watch the tone, kid-o."

Harry slapped Sirius's hand away. "Don't touch me," he sneered. His rage was getting dangerously close to the surface. His fists clenched at his sides and he struggled to keep his temper in check. _Things must be different here_, he kept saying. _They don't know what Peter did...if he did anything. Don't take it out on Sirius...._

Sirius snorted. "Fine." He started for the driver's side door. "Walk home. Maybe it'll cool you off some."

Swallowing his temper, Harry admitted quietly, "I don't know how to get back home."

Sirius stopped, his hand on the door handle. He was staring at Harry with a mix of pity and apology. "Just get in the car," he said after a few seconds.

Not looking at Sirius, Harry pulled the door open and slid into the seat. He spent a moment silently playing over the past half hour in his mind. The hurt in Ron's eyes. He would have to call him when he got home.

As they turned onto the main road, Sirius said, "I didn't mean to get so mad at you. It's just that everyone's sort of on edge when it comes to you lately." He ran a hand through his hair, which settled right back into its perfect waves. "Even me. Then you do something stupid like going off by yourself. Getting lost. Use your head for once. Something really bad could have happened."

Thinking of Hogwarts and the wizarding world where people he loved were tortured and killed, Harry muttered, "Bad compared to what?"

"You could have had a relapse, or something."

His frustration with this new place and these new rules mounting, Harry replied before he could think about his words: "A relapse wouldn't be the worst thing."

Sirius glared at the road in front of him. "If you even knew half of what your parents went through while you were out of it--" he started angrily, flexing his fingers around the stirring wheel. "You don't-- You could never--" He went quiet for several minutes. They turned onto the Potters' street. Sirius pulled the car into the driveway and stopped quickly.

Harry started to open the door, but Sirius grabbed his arm roughly, holding him in the seat.

"If you wanna be a selfish prick to me, that's fine. I can handle it. But don't you ever say anything like that in front of your parents. They went through hell waiting to see if you'd be all right, and if you throw that in their faces, I'll make sure you _do_ have a relapse. Got it?"

Embarrassed and more than a little ashamed of his attitude, Harry nodded. "I'm just still kinda confused," he said softly. "This place isn't what I remember. I feel lost and I hate it," he confessed hopelessly.

"You aren't the only one struggling through this, kid-o. You've changed, and it's been hard for your folks, too."

_What he means_, Harry thought, looking into Sirius's eyes guiltily, _is that it's been hard for him_. "I'm sorry."

Sirius sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. Just...." He shook his head. "Just try to be a little understanding, OK?"

Harry nodded.

"Come on. Let's go in and tell your mum you're OK before she gives herself a hernia."

When they walked through the door, Harry was nearly knocked over as Lily wrapped her arms around him. After only a second, she pushed him away to arm's length, staring at him with hurt and anger, and said, "What were you thinking? What if something happened and there was no one there to help you? Dr. Crawford said not to over-stress yourself! If you ever do something that foolish again I swear--" She broke off, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hugged him fiercely once more, nearly crushing his arms into his sides.

"Mum, I'm sorry. I just-- I needed to go for a walk. I'm sorry. Don't cry." Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. Here he had his mother, one of the few, precious people who he had thought was taken from him far too early in his life, and now he was being selfish and scaring her. Making her cry. "I'm sorry," he soothed.

Lily finally let go of Harry, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

Softly, Sirius said, "I just called James's cell phone. He and Pete are on their way back."

Lily nodded. "Thank you."

"I'm gonna go to my room," Harry said awkwardly, not entirely sure what he was suppose to do.

Lily nodded again.

Trudging up the stairs, Harry couldn't help but feel a heavy sense of dread. It seemed weird to him to think that these people couldn't get rid of him. He could hurt them, make them angry, make them hate him, but they had to keep him because they were his parents. With the Dursleys, there was always the idea hanging over him that they might get rid of him if he made them mad enough. But, due to their treatment, it wasn't such a terrible thought.

Harry flopped onto his bed on his stomach. He took a soccer magazine off the top of the pile on his night table and flipped through, not reading the words or really seeing the pictures. He was just waiting until James got home because he was sure he'd hear the lecture again from him, too. Hopefully he would have a better answer for his father than he had for Sirius and Lily.

What had he been thinking? He was thinking he couldn't stand the sight of Peter and his parents in the same room, talking as if everything was normal.

_But it _was_ normal_, he told himself. _Nothing happened. Mom and Dad are alive, so I have no reason to dislike Wormtail. Wormtail...._ he thought with distaste. _Do I call him "Uncle Peter?"_ Harry felt sick to his stomach.

"Harry!" James's voice came in a roar from down stairs.

_Dad's home_, Harry thought. He was surprised as he stood up, to notice how nervous he felt. When he'd imagined what having his parents around might be like, his dad had never yelled or been angry with him. When he thought of people being mad at him, he thought of Uncle Vernon, who locked him away in the cupboard for days at a time.

_Dad wouldn't lock me in a cupboard_, he told himself firmly, trying to make himself believe that it was a ridiculous idea that he was childish to be afraid of. Still, when he walked down the stairs, he stepped lightly and stopped several steps up, peering down at James from a safe distance as he said, "Yeah, Dad?"

James was glaring up at Harry. "Get down here."

"Jamie, go easy on him," Sirius said quietly. "He's still out of sorts."

Lily was no where to be seen.

Peter was standing in the kitchen doorway as if ready to dive into the other room and close the door if things got too scary for him. Half cowering away from James's fury, he looked much more like the Wormtail Harry remembered.

Despite his dislike for Peter, Harry couldn't help but think that, judging by James's eyes, the man had the right idea. Harry walked the rest of the way down the stairs, but didn't move any farther up the hall towards his father, preferring a safe distance several arms' lengths away from James, his right hand resting on the banister. He eyed the man warily, wishing he had some idea what to expect.

"Do you have any idea what you just put your mother through?" James bellowed. "She's been worried sick, thinking you were wandering around lost, or in some ditch somewhere! Did you even think of telling us you were going out?"

"James, he just got it from me and Lily. Look at him. He feels bad enough," Sirius soothed.

James clenched his jaw in thought. He looked at Harry hard, a battle of parenting wills clearly going on in his mind. Finally, after several tense seconds, he said, "Go back to your room and stay there." He pointed a shaking finger at Harry. "I don't want to see you until tomorrow." With that, James turned and walked past Peter, into the kitchen.

With James's fury safely in the other room, Peter seemed to feel a bit braver. He walked up the hall to where Harry still stood, his fist gripping the banister so tightly that his knuckles were white. Peter reached out a hand for Harry's shoulder.

Harry flinched away involuntarily, almost tripping over the bottom stair in his scramble to step back away from the man. Taking in Peter's confused expression in an instant, Harry turned and fled up the stairs, nearly slamming his bedroom door behind him.

The last time Peter had touched him was to slice his arm and take his blood for Voldemort's rebirth-- _No! That wasn't real!_ Harry yelled at himself, despite every fiber of his being disagreeing and shrinking to even think of being in the same room with the man who killed his parents. _They aren't dead!_

"They aren't dead," he repeated out loud. He punched his pillow as hard as he could. No, they weren't dead. They were downstairs, having tea with Wormtail, hating Harry.

Tears of frustration welled in Harry's eyes. Things could not get worse.

"Who's not dead?" a soft, deep voice asked from behind him.

Scrubbing the tears off his face impatiently, Harry didn't bother facing Sirius. "No one," he said.

Sirius walked over and sat on the bed beside Harry. "Your dad told me about you thinking I was dead," he ventured quietly.

Trying to think of something to say to change the subject, Harry asked, "Where were you guys talking about going earlier?"

"If you need to talk about somethi--"

"I don't need to talk," he snapped.

"Yes, you do! Harry, I don't know what was happening down there, but you looked really scared. Like you thought your dad was going to...I don't know." He ran his hand through his hair again. "Hit you, or something."

"I didn't know what he was going to do!" Harry yelled back.

A deafening silence filled the room.

"James would never hurt you. You two've had shouting matches that could have rattled windows three blocks away, but he would never--"

"Just leave me alone."

"Harry--"

"I don't want to know about what James and I did! I don't care!"

Sirius stared at Harry for several seconds, his expression stunned and partially disbelieving. Finally, he asked quietly, "Where have you been for the past month?"

Harry looked away, the tears coming back.

"Where ever you were, or thought you were, you're not there anymore. You're here. You're home. With your family, who love you very much. I hope you realize that before it's too late to still have it. Because believe me, I know what it's like to be in a home where you aren't wanted. Anyone would kill to have your family, Harry, and I mean it. Don't give that up for some shadow of a dream that isn't real."

Harry looked at Sirius. "I don't know my family, Sirius. In my dream, Mom and Dad were dead. They died when I was a baby. I don't remember anything about them. Yeah, they're great. That's wonderful. But I can't appreciate what I don't remember. I feel like I've suddenly been adopted by a couple of strangers and I'm already expected to know exactly what they want from me." Softly, he continued, "The only real family I knew was you. And my friends."

"God, I wish this didn't happen to you."

"Tell me about it," he replied bitterly, looking out the window. "Now I feel like everything I do is wrong. I don't feel like playing soccer, so Dad doesn't have anything to say to me. When I'm having a bad day, all Mom can do is rattle off PSA-sounding crap. The people I feel like I should talk to either aren't here, or I'm too afraid to actually go to them because they might be so different that it doesn't help anyway."

Sirius took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Have you explained any of this to your parents?"

Harry laughed harshly. "What would I say? 'Hey, Mom and Dad, guess what. I sort of thought you were dead until a few days ago. But since you're not, how're you doing?'"

"No, you don't want to tell them that. Just.... Look, seems to me like you need a couple days to yourself just to think things over. If I talk to your folks and see if you can stay with me through the weekend, do you think it would help?"

"Couldn't hurt."

Sirius nodded, then stood up. "I'll go down and talk to them."

"Don't mention the them being dead thing."

"I won't." Sirius closed the door as he left.

Several minutes passed, then Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall towards his room. As the door opened, he said, "I'll grab some stuff and be--" He stopped when he saw James standing in the doorway.

Crossing his arms over his chest, James leaned against the door frame and looked at the floor by his son's feet. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I wasn't mad, I was just worried."

"It's fine," Harry mumbled awkwardly, looking at his own feet.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

James sighed and walked across the room. He pulled out the desk chair and sat as Harry dropped back onto his bed. Looking around for a minute, he finally managed to look at Harry.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to go to Sirius's. If you want to, that's fine. But don't--" James shook his head. "I don't know if you remember what I told you about me and Sirius's friendship. But he spent a lot of time at my parent's house when we were growing up because he didn't want to be at home because of his father. I don't want you to feel like you need to leave this house because of me."

Pain stabbed into Harry's chest. "Dad, I don't-- I don't want to leave. I just need time. I need time to be by myself without feeling like I need to be anything to anyone."

"You don't have to be anything. Just.... Just do what you need to to feel better. If that means going over Uncle Sirius's, go. But know that I'm here, and your mum's here...if you need us. And if you don't.... Well, we're still here." James stood up and put his hand on Harry's shoulder for a second. He nodded slightly, then turned to leave.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry," he whispered, then he left, pulling the door closed soundlessly.

Harry stared at the door for several minutes before laying back on his bed. Looking at the ceiling as if it would give him the answers he desperately wanted, he tried to remember growing up with his parents around. Things that kids did.... Getting dropped off at school by his mom on the first day of kindergarten. His first time playing soccer with his dad. The first time he got in trouble for something. His dad teaching him to drive. Those shouting matches that shook windows three blocks away....

Nothing was coming to him. All he felt was an unbearable ache in the back of his throat. There was an entire person somewhere inside him that he just couldn't remember and he was starting to feel like he had lost a good friend who he desperately wanted to find again.

A light knocking brought Harry back from his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

The door opened and Sirius stuck his head in. "How you doin'?"

"All right. I think I wanna stay here."

"OK. But if you need anything, you know where I am."

"Thanks." Harry sat up. "So, where were you guys gonna go?"

Sirius walked into the room and sat in the desk chair. "There's a new restaurant opening across from the shop. I thought it'd be fun if we all went out to lunch and checked it out."

Harry nodded. "That does sound fun."

Sirius stood up and tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Then get your shoes on. We'll head out. It's about lunch time."

Without thinking about it, Harry stood up and followed Sirius out the door and down the stairs.

"All right, Jamie! Lils!" Sirius called down the hall. "Petie! Lunch time!"

The three emerged from the kitchen. "What?"

"Lunch. Costello's. My treat."

James looked at Harry, who was pushing his feet into his already tied shoes, and nodded. "Sounds good. I'm hungry, though, so make sure you mean it when you say your treating."

"I mean it."

"I'm not bringing any money."

"Good."

Lily bit her lip. "You don't think Harry wants to rest? He's had a long morning."

"He's a teenager, Lily," Sirius said. "Not an infant. He can go the day without a nap. Peter, shoes. We're out the door."

James kissed Lily on the cheek. "He'll be fine, honey."

As they all piled into the car, Harry made sure to put Sirius between himself and Peter in the backseat, but other than that, he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that things were all right. He was glad he had the chance to vent all the thoughts and feelings he had been pushing down for the past few days. He looked sideways and caught Sirius's eye.

Sirius grinned and reached over, scruffing up Harry's hair. "You leave the house looking like that? No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

Peter scoffed. "And where's yours, if you're so smooth?"

"I have many," Sirius said in a superior tone.

"In your night table drawer," Peter retorted.

Harry stifled a laugh as Lily turned in her seat to glare at Peter.

James looked back at them through the rear view mirror. "You kids be good, or I'll turn this car around."

"Yes, Dad," Sirius and Peter intoned.

Harry grinned. Sure, it was going to be hard to get use to, but it would be all right. He had his family now. And Sirius was there. And Hermione and Ron...._ I have to call him_, he reminded himself, feeling guilty again. _Later. When we get home._

_**~~***~~**  
_

Harry sighed deeply, staring at the phone. After the great lunch out with his family, and then getting to talk to Remus again to confirm dinner for tomorrow, he found the situation of needing to call Ron very anticlimactic.

"Just dial his number," he told himself. He looked back at the directory page. Taking a deep breath, he punched the buttons and waited. The line was quiet for a few seconds before the first ring.

_No going back now_, he told himself, shifting the phone.

"Hello?"

"Umm, hi. This is-- I mean, is Ron there?"

"Yeah."

Pause.

Harry glared. "Can I talk to him?"

"Sure. Oi! Ronny!"

_Fred_, Harry thought. _Or George...._

"Hello?"

"Hi. Umm, it's me. Harry."

Pause.

"Hi. Saw you out at the school. Guess you're doing all right, huh?"

"Yeah. I woke up a couple days ago, but the doctor's been keeping me in bed. No excitement or anything." Harry played with the phone cord.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Malfoy was a real prick today, wasn't he?"

"What else is new?" Harry agreed.

"He's gotten worse since he made captain. I didn't think I should mention anything," Ron said quickly, "but I figured you probably noticed when you saw him today. We didn't want to replace you, but you know...."

"Yeah, it's all right." The comfort level of the conversation was slowly rising. "I can't play for a while, so someone has to be captain. Wish it wasn't him, though."

"Me, too. Snape's right pleased with himself, having his little Boy Wonder heading the team, though."

"Snape?!" Harry yelped. No Ginny, but there was Snape. How unfair was that?!

"Tell me about it!" Ron said loudly, as though he had been dying for someone to complain to. He started on a tirade about how terrible practices were now that Snape was the coach instead of Hooch. "Budget cuts mean the teachers have to double up for sports. Can't keep paying the coaches just to coach, but still! They shouldn't allow such a biased coach! Just because Snape's pals with Malfoy's dad, he gets starting center!"

Harry listened silently, his grin slowly growing. Ron was exactly the same. And by the sound of it, so was Snape. The conversation went on and on; bad mouthing Snape and Malfoy, lamenting their heightened workload for the upcoming term, and generally catching up. Somehow, soccer was a lot more interesting when Ron was giving his version of the games and stats than when Harry was listening about some team he didn't know from a PayPerView announcer with a monotone voice.

When the conversation started to wane nearly two hours later, Ron said, "So, what's the doctor say? Will you ever play again?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I guess it'll be up to me, mostly, but I'm not sure I want to. I'm so far off with school, I should probably focus on classes."

"Just copy off Hermione. Hey, does she know you're all right?"

Feeling guilty, Harry admitted, "Yeah. I called her." He hoped it sounded like he only called her right before he called Ron.

"That's good. She was really worried. I mean, we all were, but she was really broken up."

"Yeah. Well, things are fine now. But I still have to take it easy. Mum and Dad threw a fit about me going up to the school by myself. They don't want me out on my own until I have my check up in three weeks."

"Whoa. Tough love."

"Really. But it's OK. The down time has been good for me, I think. I've needed it."

"Yeah, I bet. Man, I gotta go. Mum's getting dinner and it's my turn to set the table."

"All right. I'll give you a call some time this week."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye."

Harry hung up the phone feeling better than he had since he found out Sirius was alive. Not only was Ron the same, but he was starting to get back his appreciation for soccer and Ron's reminder of Hermione's help made him feel more confident about going into the new school term.

_I should have called him sooner_, he admonished, walking into the kitchen. He fished through the refrigerator until he found a soda, then went back to the living room and turned on the TV. Propping his heels on the coffee table, he felt very much at home.

The front door opened and the sound of Peter and Sirius bickering filled the hallway.

"You were so far behind!"

"No way! James lost."

"Ha! Hardly!"

"Shoes!" Lily called over the racket. As she walked by the living room doorway, she glanced in at Harry. "Feet off the table."

Sirius wandered up behind her, pushing his hair back out of his eye. "You're fighting a losing battle, Lils. Face it. You're surrounded by men. It's hopeless."

"They've taught chimpanzees sign language," she retorted narrowly. "I can teach four men to be civilized." Turning her back to him, she continued into the kitchen.

Sirius winced. "Ouch. And you mean five. What about Remus?"

"Remus is perfect the way he is."

From around the corner, James said, "Good thing I'm not the jealous type."

"Remi wouldn't have her anyway," Sirius dismissed over his shoulder before walking into the living room and sitting next to Harry.

Harry sat up at the turn the conversation took. "Does Remus have a girlfriend?"

The room, which had been bustling with noise, suddenly grew deathly quiet.

"Umm, you don't remember?" James asked slowly.

"I guess not. What?"

"Boy, I guess you better tell him before tomorrow, huh, Jamie?"

James sat on Harry's other side while Peter mumbled something about a drink and scurried into the kitchen.

"You remember he's sick, right?"

"What's that have to do with him having a girlfriend?"

Sirius and James looked at each other around Harry.

"Well?"

"He got AIDS from a blood transfusion when he was a kid. He's been sick since we've known him. Doctor's appointments, new drugs every few months. He's been part of a few studies that looked like they were going to come out all right. He's doing OK. It only gets the better of him every now and then," James explained.

"What? He's going to die?"

"He's doing really good with treatment. There's no cure, but he'll be living a pretty normal life for a while still, as long as nothing changes. But it does, you know, make having a relationship kinda hard."

Harry peered into his soda can thoughtfully, trying to avoid having to look at his dad or Sirius. Somehow, a once-a-month ailment like being a werewolf didn't seem to be an even trade for a deadly illness. A strong sense of injustice burned in Harry's chest. It had been hard enough to deal with the painful truth of someone he cared for having lycanthropy. Knowing that Remus was dying....

"Harry, Remus's condition isn't common knowledge. It could jeopardize his job if it got around to certain people. _You_ know there's nothing wrong with him," James continued, "but some of the parents and school governors--"

Sirius let out a barking cough that sounded strangely like, "Malfoy!"

James glared at him briefly. "Some people don't understand the disease. You know what I'm saying?"

Harry nodded. "I won't say anything to anyone," he said softly.

"Ron and Hermione know."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said distractedly._ I wonder if Tonks exists here_, he thought. _I bet Remus could use someone who'd want to be with him, no matter what._ He sighed. Just when it seemed like things were getting better, they got a little bit worse....

Later that night, when Peter and Sirius (who, Harry learned, shared a flat downtown) left, Harry was lying in bed, looking at one of his old magazines, studying the articles and pictures. With a loose background from his conversation with Ron, reading about soccer didn't seem so boring. He was just about to start an article about new official league standards, when there was a light knock at his door.

"Come in."

The door opened and James walked in. "Just wanted to say good night."

Harry set his magazine down.

"And I wanted to apologize again, for today. I guess I haven't been very patient."

"It's all right. I guess I haven't either."

James nodded a little. "Well, good night."

"'Night."

After James was gone, Harry sighed and leaned back into his pillow. He lied awake, anxious about seeing Remus the next day, for almost an hour before falling into a nightmare in which Snape announced to the muggle school that Remus was a werewolf. There was a terrible aftermath in which Lily had Harry removed from school and James and Sirius were plotting to murder Snape. He woke with a start somewhere in the middle, rolled over went back to sleep.

TBC


	4. In Which Unpleasant Discovers Are Made

Interestingly enough, I looked up how long "So Not Myself" is and this is waaaaaaaaay longer. Toss out a few more a's.... Here we are at chapter 4 and I still haven't gotten to the beginning of the school year. I hope that's OK. I don't want to make the chapters too long.... My goal is between 4000 and 6000 words per chapter. I really didn't notice this was so long.... -_-*

Anyway, here we have one of my favorite sections. I love Remus in the books and I love writing him. I'll have to polish up some of my other--shorter--Remus-centric things to post. There is a note about how I wrote him at the end of the chapter, so feel free to read that, if you like reading my notes. If you don't like reading my notes, well, what are you doing here? The story is down there! Read on! (and review, please)

**~~***~~**

"Harry, we're leaving in a few minutes!"

"OK!"

Harry sighed as he shifted piles of clean clothes around his bed. He was trying to take care of them before they had to leave for dinner with Remus, but he couldn't seem to focus. His mind was still stuck on the conversation he'd had with Sirius and his dad the day before. What would Remus look like? Sick and old, like he did in the dream? Giving up his cleaning effort for a loss, Harry left his room and went down stairs.

Ten minutes later, sitting in the backseat of the car, Harry felt his stomach twisting into knots. The longer they drove, the worse it was.

"Here we are," James said, turning into a two-car drive in front of a small, dingy flat. It was nothing like the large, well-kept house the Potters lived in.

Harry climbed out of the car and followed his parents up to the door.

James knocked twice, then pushed the door open. "Remus?"

"In the kitchen!"

As they walked through the small living room, Harry took in the frayed furniture and obviously second-hand decor. The rug was threadbare in places of high traffic, and the wallpaper was peeling pitifully near each of the door frames. The little TV that was sitting on top of a rolling entertainment cart with one broken wheel looked older than Harry himself. Despite the oldness of everything--"old" was the only word that Harry could think of to describe the flat--it was very clean. There was no dust and the windows, though clouded with ancient stains that seemed to come from cigarette smoke from several decades ago, were made slightly more attractive by a well-kept set of curtains.

After the living area, they stepped into a small kitchen-dining room. All the appliances were in shades of tan and yellow-orange that reminded Harry strongly of television shows from the 50's. The kitchen table was worn and the four chairs that stood around it were mismatched, but obviously treated with wood oil to preserve some small amount of attractiveness. The top of the table was set with four places of dishes and flatware from no less than six table sets.

Beyond the table, Remus stood by a small metal sink full of glasses. His khaki slacks were a bit too short and his brown sweater a bit too baggy, but he smiled at them warmly and the effect was to make the kitchen feel as comfortable as any familiar place a person might have good memories of.

Lily maneuvered around the table and gave Remus a quick hug. "It's been too long since we've seen you."

"I know. We've all been preoccupied, haven't we?"

"Too much so," James answered. He turned to Harry with a wary look, obviously unsure of how Harry would react to Remus.

A warm feeling of comfort swelled inside Harry's chest. Once again, he could have been at Grimmauld, surround by people he knew and cared for, watching Remus help Mrs. Weasley make dinner in the dirty, yet cozy basement kitchen. Squeezing by the table and his mother, Harry embraced Remus like a favorite uncle he hadn't seen in years. He was only slightly startled to feel how thin Remus was.

The return hug was weak, but just as warm and caring at the smile. "It's good to see you feeling better."

"Yeah. It's good to see you, too."

"Well, have a seat. I just realized I didn't have enough clean glasses, so I was washing this morning's."

James opened the oven and peered in at the roast. "Smells great. Does it need to come out now?"

"Yeah, it can." Remus set the glasses on the table and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Here." He hurriedly rearranged the pots of potato and vegetables on the stove to make room for the roast pan.

"It looks amazing."

As Harry moved around the table to his chair, he stopped. Lying on a rug in front of the back door was a huge bear of a dog, it's longish black fur disheveled in matted curls. He looked like he would have been very handsome after a bath and a good brushing. "S-Snuffles?" he asked tentatively.

The dog raised his head slowly, his tail thumping the floor several times as he licked his lips.

Looking slightly disbelieving, Lily said, "You remember Snuffles?"

"That's really his name?"

Remus moved around Harry, a large bowl of dog food in his hand. "Always has been. Here you go, Snuffles." He smiled fondly as the old dog stood up and started munching lazily on his food.

"Where'd you get him?"

"When I was twenty-two my condition hit an all-time low. I was constantly sick. My doctors thought I was taking my last lap, if you know what I mean. They sent me to a grief councilor, who suggested a therapy dog might help me deal better with what was going to happen. I thought she was crazy, but she insisted. I went to the therapy shelter and this is what they gave me. I lived in a tiny apartment--half the size of this place--and these people wanted to give me a moose for a dog. But I took him. We went through the training classes together and by the end of those weeks, I couldn't have left the center without him if I tried."

Harry looked back at the dog. He was the exact image of Sirius in his animagus form.... Shaking his head, he sank into his seat.

Turning towards the stove, Remus said, "What are you doing?"

"Carving the meat."

Squeezing by Harry's chair, Remus hurried across the small kitchen and pushed himself between James and the roast pan. Harry watched Remus try to wrestle the knife out of James's hand, while Lily dished out vegetables onto each plate.

After winning the struggle for the knife, James tried to push Remus out of the way. "I've got it. It's easy. You turn it this way--"

Remus pushed himself back between James and the counter. "You're hopeless. Give me the knife."

"I carved the ham on Christmas," he defended, making another attempt to get to the pan.

Remus stood resolutely in front of his master piece of a roast, reaching around James to take the carving tools. "You mean you butchered it. I remember last year."

"Just the first slice."

"How about not?"

"James, leave Remus alone and pour the drinks," Lily ordered.

With a slight pout, James relinquished the knife.

Once everything was dished out and everyone was sitting, Harry said, "Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Are Hermione and Ron in the same civics period as me?"

"Yep. I get to deal with all three of you at once. I don't know if I should be afraid, or grateful to get it over with in one shot."

Harry grinned.

Lily swallowed her mouthful. "Did you finally call Ron?"

"Yeah. I called him yesterday when we got back from lunch. You know," Harry added mischievously, "when Dad and Sirius were trying to put brake fluid in the car."

"We were doing fine until Peter tried to help," James retorted, poking his fork at Harry.

"How are Sirius and Peter? I haven't seen them since...probably Christmas dinner," Remus finished sheepishly.

"All right. Peter got a promotion last week. We were going to celebrate, but he wouldn't spring for the party, so we just ignored it."

"He shouldn't have to throw his own party."

"He's the one who just got the fat raise."

"So now he makes, what? Half what you do, instead of a quarter?"

"Something like that," James agreed dismissively.

Remus laughed a little and shook his head. "It's good to see some things don't change."

As he listened to the conversation, Harry tossed Snuffles small chunks of roast. Each time he got a piece, his shaggy tail would thump the floor. As the conversation turned to reminiscing from the "old days," Harry continued to eat in silence, just enjoying being with his family and hearing Remus laugh.

When they had first gotten there, Harry was sure Remus looked worse off in the real world than he had in the dream. But now, seeing him visiting with James and Lily, he seemed much happier and healthier. He was pulled out of his thoughts by an indignant snort from his father.

"He's doing what?!"

"Coaching. The memo came through a month ago. The budget had to be cut down, so the house heads have all been assigned sports duties."

"Yeah, that's fine. But Snape, coach soccer?" James looked thoroughly disgusted.

_There's another thing that doesn't change_, Harry thought.

Remus looked at James sternly. "We're a little bit old for schoolboy grudges."

James huffed and crossed his arms over his chest in silent protest to Remus's admonishment. The silence didn't last long, though. "I just can't believe it! He doesn't know a thing about the game! He's never even played! I bet it was Malfoy's idea to put his little lapdog on as coach so his spawn would have a better position for the scouting season!"

Shaking his head, Remus went back to eating, allowing James to rant for a few more minutes. "Harry, will you pass the potatoes?"

"Sure thing."

"Will you be playing this year?" he asked under James's loud complaints to no one in particular.

Harry looked at James for a moment, making sure he was still wrapped up in telling Lily why Snape was such a bad coach before he answered, "Probably not. The doctor says I can't do any sports until I have another CT, but I don't think I want to anyway, even if he does clear me for it."

Remus nodded understandingly. "How about classes? Feeling all right?"

Harry poked his carrots and shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. We're getting my books early so I can look over them, but I don't think it will help. I can't seem to remember anything from other terms."

"It'll come back to you. And I'm sure your teachers will help you where you need it. And of course you have Hermione. As long as she only helps you."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, when James burst, "And then you remember what he did, don't you, Remus? Just like him, too! Sneaking up on someone. Knew he couldn't win in a fair fight...."

Remus sighed.

"James, honey, can this wait for after dinner?"

"Sure, sweetheart." James slumped in his seat, but his Snape-bashing monologue seemed to be over for the moment.

"You have the patience of a saint," Remus said.

Lily just smiled.

After dinner and dessert, the four were sitting on the slouching couch in the living room. The little black-and-white TV was playing the news, but no one was listening to it. Lily and Remus were too busy talking about teacher-related work issues, and Harry was trying to pretend he didn't notice James peering at him periodically out of the corner of his eye.

"I had a student with that exact problem. It turned out he had deficient reading skills. His ability to convert chemical equations was fine once someone verbally explained to him what each problem wanted him to do," Lily explained.

"It's so hard when basic skills get ignored in lower grades," Remus said sadly.

Harry looked at the TV, not really seeing it. Snuffles had his huge head resting on Harry's knee and he was stroking it absently.

James looked at Harry, then the TV, then Harry again.

Finally, unsettled by the slight looks, Harry asked, "Something you wanted, Dad?"

"What? No. Not really. Well, sort of."

Harry looked at James.

"I could have misheard you, but it sounded like you were telling Remus you aren't doing soccer this year."

_Oh no_. "Umm, well, I don't think I'll be able to. I still have a couple weeks til my check up, and they already started pre-season practice. I'd be really behind. And I'm sort of behind with school, so I thought--"

"You don't have to be so defensive," James said. "It's fine. I just wanted to make sure I heard you right."

"You really won't be disappointed if I don't play?"

"I'll miss going to the games, sure, but it's your school year."

Harry could tell James was trying hard to sound supportive despite his own feelings. Thinking fast for a way to make his dad feel better without having to agree to play, Harry said, "I might play, if I can. But right now I don't want to get my hopes up and have Dr. Crawford tell me no."

"Yeah," James agreed.

"When I was talking to Ron, he told me about some of the practice I missed and I really sort of missed playing," Harry said truthfully. Ron had made the game sound like fun to try out. But there was a lot of pressure hovering in the air for Harry to be great, and he wasn't sure he wanted to try and live up to that, especially when he'd have to contend with Draco, who obviously knew what he was doing, and Snape, who obviously still didn't like him or his father.

"You have to do what feels right to you."

Harry nodded. He could hear in James's voice how hard it was for him to say that. "Thanks."

"Wow, it's already eight-thirty," Lily said suddenly.

"Is it?" Remus looked at the clock in mild surprised. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. We should get going and let you get some sleep. You look exhausted."

Smiling, Remus nodded a little. "I do feel a bit worn down." He stood with some effort, Harry and James close behind him. "Thanks for coming. It was nice to have you guys over."

"You'll have to come to the house for dinner next weekend," Lily said. "I'll make one of your favorites."

"You don't have to--"

"I'd love to. What do you want?"

Remus thought for a moment, then said, "Summer strawberry soup would be wonderful. I can never quite make it right, and yours is always perfect."

"Summer soup, it is."

"Hey, if you come for lunch, you can catch the game with us," James said. "Maybe we'll have Sirius and Peter over, too."

Remus smiled a peculiar smile and said, "That would be fun."

As they said good night, Harry noticed how very tired Remus looked, standing in the doorway, haloed by dull, yellow light, his old dog sitting droopily on the floor by his feet. _Must be the medication he's on_, Harry thought as he followed his parents outside into the warm, summer night. The street lights along the road were glowing hazily in the vapors of steam that rose off the hot pavement. It created a very lazy, sleepy effect, making Harry think of being in the potions dungeon for too long.

"Mum?"

"Yes, honey?"

"What does Snape teach?"

"Chemistry."

Figures.... "Have I taken that already?"

"Your first credit. You'll have him this year for your second one."

Harry made a face as he climbed into the car. _Just when I thought I was done with having Snape for class_, he thought with distaste. The coming term was slowly going down hill, and it hadn't even started yet.

When they got home, Harry kicked off his shoes and trudged into the living room. Taking the cordless phone, he called, "I'm calling Ron. Do you guys need the phone?"

"No, honey. But don't be too late. We have church in the morning."

Harry stopped mid-dial. "We go to church?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Lily nodded.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He didn't feel like he believed in God. But then again, going to church couldn't be any worse than having lunch with Wormtail....

**~~***~~**

This could not get any worse. Harry stood frozen in place as several older people hobbled around him to get to their seats. He felt a hand pushing on his back as his father said, "Harry, keep moving. There are people behind us."

His feet couldn't have moved forward if he'd wanted them to. "I want to go home," he said.

"We just got here."

Harry shook his head and turned around. He pushed by his parents and almost knocked an old lady (who looked suspiciously like Mrs. Figg) into the pew by the door as he squeezed back out into the chapel hall. His heart was pounding wildly. Once he was safely outside, away from the stuffy air and the mournful organ music, he let out a short, unamused laugh. If he wasn't shaking so violently, he would find the situation very funny.

_I slipped into a trauma-induced sleep and had a nightmare that everyone wanted to kill me_, he thought, pacing the empty walkway, _and the evil, dark lord heading the campaign for my blood was played by the freakin' preacher...._

"Harry, honey, what are you doing?" Lily was walking down the steps, her brow drawn in concern. "Pastor Riddle hoped he could talk to you before the service started."

Like Friday, when he'd found Peter Pettigrew having breakfast in his kitchen, Harry felt ill. "I really just want to go home."

"It's only an hour, then you can go back to bed."

Deciding to take a firmer approach, he stated, "I'm not going back in there. I'll wait in the car."

Lily opened her mouth, but stopped when James came down the steps and stood beside her.

"Everything all right?"

"Harry wants to go home."

"I don't want to go home. I just don't want to be in there. Stay, if you want. I'll wait in the car," he repeated.

"Are you sure? Do you feel sick?"

Harry nodded, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of what was happening. "Yeah. I feel sick, all right."

James took his car keys out of his pocket. "I'll bring him home and come back to pick you up, OK?"

Lily looked concerned. "I'll go home, too. Missing one Sunday won't hurt anything."

"Mom, I'm all right. You can stay. I just need to lie down."

James kissed Lily on the cheek. "He'll be all right. I'll be back in an hour or so."

Sighing, Lily nodded, though she was still watching Harry with concern.

Harry turned to go to the car, but jolted to a stop as he ran into someone. The someone grabbed his arm to hold him from falling over. "Sorry, I didn't--" Harry stopped as he found himself once again staring into Draco Malfoy's cold, grey eyes. He suddenly became very aware of the strong fingers that were still wrapped around his upper arm.

After holding onto him for a second longer than he had to, Draco let go of Harry's arm like he'd been burnt. "Watch where you're going, Potter," he sneered. His usually scathing tone was weak and lacked enthusiasm, as if he only realized too late that he was suppose to use it. With a short glare at Harry, Draco walked around him and his parents and jogged up the steps to the door.

Glaring at the door through which Draco had disappeared, James said, "What was that all about?"

"You know what the Malfoy's are like," Lily said dismissively. "Draco's probably late to his responsibilities, so he's rushing, hoping no one will notice."

"Hm." James turned back to Harry. "Well, come on."

Still in a daze, Harry followed James to the car. _That wasn't a church service_, he thought with a shiver. _It was a Death Eater meeting._ "What responsibilities does Draco have?"

"Same as yours. He's a pastor's assistant. Sort of like a deacon-in-training," James explained at the confusion on his son's face.

"I'm a deacon?"

"In training."

"Yeah. I'm that?"

"Well, you were."

"Oh." Harry's stomach turned and he was sure he was going to vomit.

"Obviously, if you don't want to be one any more, you don't have to. You just use to like it." The words were hallow and carried something of an involuntary accusation.

"I don't remember," he explained thinly.

James sighed and started the car.

Harry stared straight ahead silently as they drove home. He felt miserable for letting his dad down yet again. _I feel like Hagrid's telling me about my defeating Voldemort,_ he mused as he watched the trees go by. _Like there are a lot of people who expect me to do a lot of things I can't do. At least last time I lived up to some of their expectations. Now, all I can seem to do is disappoint people._

When they got home, Harry spent the rest of the morning in bed, flipping through books and staring at the ceiling. _I keep learning about things I use to like, but don't any more. There has to be something I still like. Not a class--I don't remember any of them. Not soccer, that's for sure. Not church. _He tried to imagine what an ecclesiastical leader would say if he confessed to having a month-long fantasy about being a wizard and playing with magic.... Probably excommunicate him.

He did still like Ron and Hermione, though. That was something. He sighed and rolled over onto his side.

Suddenly the door opened. Lily peeked in. "You are awake. How are you feeling?" She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed and felt his forehead.

"Just tired."

"We shouldn't have kept you up so late, then woke you so early."

Harry shrugged.

Lily kissed him on the cheek. "Get some rest. I'll bring you up some lunch in a little while."

Harry watched his mother leave, then sat up, suddenly feeling restless. Wandering out of his room, Harry started looking at the family pictures on the wall. The phone rang downstairs and he heard his father's voice:

"Hello?...Let me check. Lily, is Harry sleeping?"

"No, he's awake."

James came to the bottom of the stairs. "Harry, the phone is for you."

Harry walked down and took the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi." It was Draco.

"Hi," he said warily.

"Pastor Riddle wanted me to call and see if you were going to be in service next week to pass for the collections."

"Probably not."

The line went quiet for several seconds.

"Will you be at deacon's training tonight?"

"No."

More silence.

When Draco spoke again, his voice was even colder. "Are you going to do anything?"

Harry glared. "I don't think what I'm going to do is any of your business."

"I'll take that to mean I should take your name off the assistants' role, then?"

"You do that."

"I will. Bye."

The line went dead, and Harry turned the phone off. He was a little disturbed by the odd tone in Draco's voice. Once more he felt like he'd missed somethign he was supposed to know or say or do.

"What did Draco want?"

"He was just wondering if I was going to some deacon thing tonight."

The silence that filled the room was heavy and tense.

"Honey, did something at church bother you this morning?"

The memory of Tom Riddle, much older, but still carrying a strong resemblance to the handsome, seventeen year old boy who had framed Hagrid for murder, and learned how to make horcruxes, and killed people with forbidden curses, standing behind a pulpit in a suit and tie, holding a Bible, reentered Harry mind. He shivered again and set the phone in its cradle. "I just got tired."

"Pastor Riddle said to pass on his hopes that you feel better quickly."

Not sure what he should say to that, Harry muttered, "Umm, thanks," then left the room. He stopped in the hall and listened.

"James, I'm worried. He's not himself."

"He's just having a hard time." James's voice was strained. "You try waking up to a life you don't remember."

"But he _does_ remember! That's what I don't get! Just when I think I can't stand seeing him so confused, I see him do something, or hear him say something that tells me he _must_ remember _something_. He remembers things about Remus and Sirius. That stupid dog!" she burst. "He has no problem talking to Ron for hours on the phone, or Hermione. But it's like we never existed! I try to have a conversation with him and he's cold. I've seen him do it to you, too! How can he remember all those other things, everyone else, and not us?"

"What? Are you saying you think he's pretending?"

"I'm saying," Lily answered in a tired voice, "I want my son back."

"This hasn't been easy for any of us. Just...." James sighed. "He needs to get out of the house. Right now we're smothering him and he hasn't had a chance to really look around and figure out what he does remember. Maybe we need to back off a little bit."

Lily was quiet.

Softly, James continued, "The other night, Sirius said Harry told him--"

Lily huffed loudly. "He'll talk to Sirius, but not me?"

"He recognizes Sirius," James said firmly. "You remember what he said when he first woke up. He was clinging to that picture like it would save his life! I don't know what kind of connection Harry thinks he has with Sirius, but if it's going to help, then I'm glad he's talking to him! I'm glad he's talking to _someone_!"

Unable to listen any more, Harry walked up stairs. Slumping onto his bed, he dropped back on his pillows, his arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight. He wanted to fall asleep and dream he was at Hogwarts. Just one more time. Just enough to say good bye to everyone before he had to keep going in this weird life he'd stumbled into.

TBC

**~~***~~**

Remus with AIDS.... This was a hard choice for me. I actually walked around my apartment for several days and talked to several people before I decided what poor Remus was going to be afflicted with.

I thought about cancer first because he could be in remission, or in the middle of chemo, but that didn't have the right feel. Lycanthropy has a very heavy stigma attached to it. It's bad. You don't want people who have it around your children. Unless a person gets cancer from heavy drug and alcohol use there is little reason for the disease to equate to being a werewolf.

I played with a couple other obscure ideas, but there were the sorts of diseases that probably really _would _ban him from teaching, and most of them were so unknown I would have had to spend half a chapter just explaining why it was applicable.

Then I thought of AIDS. I'm 25 so I learned about AIDS right when doctors were stressing how you can't get it by touching and all that stuff that pretty much everyone knows now. It was a long shot, at first, because I couldn't see him having had it for so long without dying, but a little research and some conversation with friends told me differently. And thus Remus became HIV positive.

I had a hard time deciding, at first, if Remus might be gay (I _am_ a fan of Puppy Love in pre-Harry time lines), but in the end I decided that would be too much of a cop-out. Some people might see it the other way, but I think it's important that AIDS moves into knowledge as a social issue, not a "gay disease," and so chose to represent it thus.

My concern in this--if I have any, which I must if I'm making this final note--is for people to realize I am not trying to demean the condition. HIV and AIDS are very serious and I had a hard time deciding to toss them carelessly into a fan fiction--I suppose by that definition it was not done carelessly. Either way, I hope the intent is understood and respected.


	5. In Which Dr Crawford is Visited

I've gotten so used to doing start-of-story notes, but I don't think I have anything to say about this chapter. The page looks strange just going straight into the story, though, so I had to type something.... -_-

*shoos the angst monkey off the stage* Something a bit more lighthearted, for the more sensitive viewers....

**~~***~~**

"You are so full of it!" Harry said, laughing.

Ron shoved him so he stumbled off the curb of the sidewalk.

Harry laughed again and stepped back out of the road. "I'm gonna tell her you said that. But she already knows, right?" His eyes sparkled. "Since she was there, and all."

Ron, who had been bragging about how far he had gotten with Lavender Brown when they were going out the previous year, balked for a second. "I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, so if you mention it, she'll know I broke my promise."

"You're full of it," he said again, still grinning. As it turned out, Hermione and Ron were not together, though it was becoming more and more painfully obvious that they both wished they were.

He wasn't sure if it really was familiar, or if he was just comfortable with Ron now, but the walk to school seemed to Harry like something he must have done a million times. It was Tuesday and Ron had invited him to watch the soccer practice, then go out for something to eat with some of the guys.

When Harry asked his parents if he could, Lily seemed like she wanted to say no, but James hadn't given her the chance. "Of course you can. Just bring my cell phone with you so you can call if you need anything," was his only condition.

As they approached the school, Harry's nerves started to jump. He was going to see all his old friends. And Snape. He had been trying to tell himself he was prepared and that it was all right all morning, but now that the moment was drawing nearer, he wasn't so sure. The last time he had seen the man they were hurling hexes and insults at one another and Dumbledore was dead.... Harry shook the thought away.

"I have to hit the locker room to change," Ron said. "If you wanna wait at the bench, I'll be out in a second."

"OK."

Harry watched Ron jog to the metal doors behind the bleachers, then slowly walked the rest of the way down to the field. He saw the tall figure that must have been Snape setting out bright orange cones. When Harry reached the bench, he sat down and glanced at the team of boys on the basketball courts, then at the girls playing tennis. Farther behind the school, there was a track and a couple other teams running laps. A hot breeze blew over the open fields.

His cones placed, Snape strode towards Harry, his steps long and purposeful. Even in the heat, he was wearing sweat pants and a sweat shirt. His hair, though still jet black and shining with grease in the sunlight, was drawn out of his face in a low ponytail. He was sneering.

"Potter, what are you doing here?"

Harry tensed. "Just watching practice."

"Your doctor is under the impression that you should not be within sighting distance of a soccer ball," Snape informed him smugly, stopping just feet away from the end of the bench Harry was sitting on.

Harry glared at the man. "I'm not playing."

Snape's lip curled with annoyance. He began to reply, when the general racket of several boys talking excitedly reached his ears. Ignoring Harry, Snape called, "Line up on the near goal line for warm-ups."

As they walked by, several boys slapped Harry's back and greeted him. Draco, who was bringing up the rear of the group, merely set a stat book on the bench, glared at Harry, then jogged after the others, calling out orders for them to start stretching.

Looking over the team, Harry recognized Dean and Seamus immediately. The short blond boy who he had notice the previous week turned out to be Colin Creevy. Zacharias Smith was leaning over to talk to Justin Finch-Fletchly when Draco's attention was preoccupied with berating a thin, lanky boy who, by the looks of him, could only be Theodore Nott. There were a couple boys Harry didn't recognize, but he was pleased to see that Crabbe and Goyle were no where to be seen.

As practice started in earnest, Harry stretched and shifted on the bench. Looking around, he spotted the stat book. Curiosity getting the better of him, he picked it up and flipped to one of the middle pages. Snape seemed to be keeping all the information for all his players from each year they had been on the team. Draco, Harry learned, had been playing since his first year at Eldwood. Turning a couple more pages, he saw his own name.

_He can take these pages right out_, Harry mused, skimming his goal stats. He wasn't sure what was fair or poor, but his numbers were right up there with Draco's. "Hmm, I wasn't half bad," he muttered.

"Self-praise, Potter? Why am I not surprised?"

Harry glared at Snape, who was taking several soccer balls out of a large, mesh bag. Somehow, Harry couldn't be intimidated by this man. His gut reaction was not nearly as strong as it had been with Peter or Tom Riddle. Yes, he still remembered vividly what had happened on the castle tower. He could still see Dumbledore's face as he toppled over the edge and into the black of the night sky behind him. But there was something about this Snape that didn't give off nearly the same air as the other Snape had. Maybe it was the sweat pants, or the lack of ability to dig into Harry's mind. Whatever was so different, Harry felt no fear nor hatred, only the resentment of a student towards a cruel teacher.

Snape stood up and held out the mesh bag to Harry. "If you're going to be hanging around, you'll be useful. Put one ball by each of the cones on the right side of the field."

After a short debate about shooting back a snide comment, Harry stood up, took the bag, and started dragging it across the field to the head of the line of cones--he was getting bored of just sitting anyway.

The rest of practice passed quickly, and Harry found himself standing outside the metal locker room door waiting for Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Colin.

When the door opened first, it was Draco who stepped out. "Think you're going to get back on the team if you hang around and mess with Snape's balls enough?" he sneered.

"I'm just waiting for my friends," he answered evenly, ignoring the jab. He was in no mood to get into a fight. After what he had been living through for the past month, Draco's petty insults were nothing.

"That's all you came here for? Was to watch practice then go out with Weasley?"

Harry glared at Draco. "What else would I have come here for? I told you, I'm not trying to squeeze back onto your precious team. Honestly, I don't want anything to do with soccer, Snape, or you. So if you just leave me alone, and I leave you alone, life would get a whole lot simpler."

Draco's eyes shown like flecks of frozen granite. "Just leave you alone, huh? Fine. Consider yourself left alone," he said scathingly, walking away.

_That was too easy_, he thought. Before he could think any more about Draco's odd behavior, the door opened and Ron and the others pushed out.

"Ready to go?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, following the guys up the walkway to where Seamus had his car parked. Squeezing into the back seat of the small sports car, he crowded over as far as he could get so Colin could fit in with him and Ron. They were a jumble of lank and legs as the three shifted, trying to get comfortable. In the end, Harry still felt like Colin was half on his lap, and his legs were curled painfully under Ron's.

The ride to the restaurant was too long and too bumpy. When Seamus finally stopped the car, Ron popped his door open and he and Harry half toppled out like worms from a trick can. Colin emerged closely behind them, his face flushed and his hair mused.

"Don't we look a sight," Ron muttered, running his fingers through his hair.

Harry laughed a little. "I'm just glad you guys had showers before we did that."

Dean and Seamus were standing by the door, looking unruffled and cool in the hot sun. "Coming?"

Chatting and laughing, they made their way into the crowded hang out, ordered their food, and found one of the last unoccupied booths near the back of the room. Surrounded by his old dorm mates--people he knew and liked--Harry felt like none of the last few days had happened. He was just hanging out with his friends, and they could have been anywhere, but they just happened to be there.

When the conversation turned inevitably to girls, Harry nudged Ron in the ribs sharply. "When are you going to ask Hermione out?"

"Oh, what's that? Hermione?" Seamus's eyes were glowing with interest.

Ron turned bright red. "We're just friends."

"Only because you haven't asked her out."

"She doesn't like me," he mumbled.

Dean shook his head. "Blind. Love is blind."

Harry chuckled, drawing attention from Ron.

"What about you? Potter's back in action and the ladies'll be lining up."

"Shut up. There's no line of ladies.'" Harry felt his own cheeks burn.

"Yeah. He's still saving himself for Cho."

Harry kicked Ron hard under the table.

"Oww!"

"That is over."

"Thank god," Dean muttered. Seamus pounded his glass on the table in agreement and the rest of the boys erupted in appreciative noise, then the topic slowly changed.

Looking sideways at Colin, who had been suspiciously quiet since the sardine act in the back of the car, Harry said, "So, what have you been up to?" He was grateful that there wasn't a camera to be seen, but the boy's odd silence was a little disturbing.

"Nothing too much. Just working for the school paper." He gave a small laugh. "Photographer, right?" Colin nodded a few too many times, then took a huge bite of his pizza.

Harry stared at Colin for a second then leaned over to Ron. "Is he all right?" he whispered.

"Who? Colin?"

Harry nodded.

"He's been sort of weird for a while," Ron whispered back. "It started before your accident, but it's only really gotten bad over the past week, or so. Snape's about ready to kick him off the team, or haul him in for drug tests, if he doesn't start acting normal again. Well, normal for a Creevy."

"Colin wouldn't do drugs," Harry scoffed. "Not on purpose, anyway. Maybe he's just been locked in a dark room with those developing chemicals for a few too many hours."

"Maybe." Ron didn't sound convinced.

"So, Harry," Seamus suddenly said loudly.

"So, what?"

"When's your big party?"

"What party?"

"You have to have your big party," Ron said. "You do it every year for your birthday! You can't have forgotten that." Seeing the look in Harry's eyes, Ron stopped. He knew about Harry's memory loss, and he also knew that Harry didn't feel like making it common knowledge.

"I guess I'll see what Mum and Dad say," he answered. The thought of throwing a party seemed very strange to him. He lapsed back into silence as Seamus, Dean, and Ron recounted extravagant stories from past summer parties at the Potters'.

"Of course, Malfoy usually tries to out-do you with his birthday thing in June," Ron said bitterly.

"Usually manages, too," Seamus added. "Or so the tale is told."

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "He probably just pays people to say they went and had a good time. _I've_ never been to one of his supposedly wonderful parties."

"That's because we like to keep the trash on the curb, Weasel," a cool voice said from the booth in front of theirs as Draco leaned forward to peer at them. Several stupid snickers that could only belong to Crabbe and Goyle followed.

"Pity your folks don't let you in the house, then," Harry shot back.

Draco glared at him. "Bite me, Potter."

"Pretty foul language for a good, little church boy, huh, Malfoy?" he retorted.

Before Draco could reply, the waitress showed up with his pizza. "Two pepperoni with extra cheese?"

He nodded curtly as she set them down. Looking back at Harry, his cheeks tinged pink with anger, he said, "Pretty cocky attitude for a no account invalid."

Realizing that it was getting to the point where wands would normally have been drawn, Harry decided to back off. No wands meant fists would come out, and he was positive his parents wouldn't let him out on his own again for a long time if he came home bloodied up from a fight with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Yeah, well--"

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder to stop him. "Just leave it. He's not worth it."

Sneering, Draco stood up and tossed a few bills on the table. "Let's get outta here. I can't eat when the restaurant stinks like weasel."

After a longing look at their untouched pizzas, Crabbe and Goyle stood up and followed Draco out through the crowd of teenagers.

The rest of their meal was much more subdued, and when Harry and his friends stood to leave, it was with a heavy silence. Harry felt like he'd once again done something out of character for himself, but this time he didn't care. He led the way to the parking lot in silence.

"You catchin' a ride home with me?" Seamus asked as he dug his keys out of his pocket.

Harry looked around and, spotting Sirius's garage half a block away, said, "Naw, I'll walk."

"Going over to see Sirius?" Ron asked.

"For a few minutes."

"Well, I have to get home soon. Chores. So I guess I'll catch up with you later."

Harry nodded and watched as Ron folded his tall frame into the backseat of the little car.

"Hey, Creepy Creevy, you comin'?" Dean called impatiently.

"Oh, umm, sure. Bye, Harry." Colin waved a little then hurried around to the other door and ducked into the car.

"Bye, Colin. See you, Seamus."

With a short wave, Seamus slid into the car. The engine roared to life, and the car zoomed out of the parking lot.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Harry checked for cars, then jogged across the street. Walking up the sidewalk casually, he took a moment to look around. The block was packed with gas stations, car dealerships, and Chinese and pizza restaurants. The summer air and the early afternoon seemed to have drawn everyone out as the four lanes buzzed with heavy traffic. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere.

Harry sighed. It was good to get out with his friends. It was good to know that things here could feel as carefree and comfortable as things at Hogwarts had. He thought of Draco. It also felt good to know that his worst problem was having to deal with Draco's social elitist temper tantrums. If that was as hazardous as being Harry Potter got in this world, he wasn't going to feel too upset.

When he got to the garage, Harry turned up the walk to the main office and pulled the door open.

The old man behind the desk looked up from his coffee-stained auto parts catalog. "Can I help you? Oh, Harry. Sirius is in bay three, working on his bike."

"Thanks." Harry walked out through the side door that went straight to the garage bays. He grinned when he saw Sirius sanding the last of the rust off the bike's body.

It was now a flat, uneven metallic color, the floor around it--and Sirius himself--glinting reddish-brown in the light that streamed in from the door windows.

"What a gorgeous bike," he commented, mocking the tone Sirius used every time he talked about it.

Sirius looked up, then pulled off his safety glasses, letting them hang around his neck. "You're just jealous."

"Yeah, that's it," he agreed, still grinning.

"What are you doing down here, anyway?"

"I just had lunch with some friends and decided to walk over. See what you were up to." Harry sat on the crate by the counter.

"Nothing too much. It's been a slow day, but I have a three o' clock coming in for an oil change, so I have to hang around 'til then." Pulling his glasses back on, he said, "If you wanna suit up and help when it comes in, I'll give you a ride home when we're done." He scrubbed at a few spots of rust only he could see.

"Implying that if I didn't want to help, I'd have to walk?"

Sirius nodded. "Pretty much."

Harry stood up.

"Spare coveralls are by the back door."

"Yeah, I remember."

"Good."

As Harry walked to the back of the garage, he looked at the white Mustang which was still on the lift in the farthest bay. He took a set of grey coveralls off one of the hooks and called, "Who's car is that?"

"It's yours."

Harry pushed his feet into the wide pant legs, shoes and all. "No, really?"

"Really." Sirius tossed the used sandpaper onto the counter and wiped his forehead. "Don't remember?"

Harry shook his head as he pulled the zipper up to his waist and tied the sleeves to keep them from dragging.

"That was your grandfather's car. James's dad. He left it to you when he died. You were only fourteen. Your dad asked me to keep it down here. It needs a little bit of work, but nothing too much. I was waiting until you could help me do it."

With a strange mixture of longing and loss, Harry reached up and ran his hand over the driver's side door. He didn't remember his grandfather at all. "Could we work on it some this summer?"

"Sure. If you're up for it. I shut down early on Tuesday and Thursday. We can work in the afternoons."

Harry nodded. "That would be good."

"But you aren't driving it until James teaches you how. You wreck Malfoy's BMW and he'll get over it. You ruin this car, your dad would kill you."

Grinning, Harry said, "I bet."

The old man opened the door and stuck his head out. "That three o' clock oil change is here."

"Just get the keys. I'll be right out." Sirius sent Harry to work clearing out the floor around bay two, which was littered with spent sandpaper and dirty rags, then went through the door into the office.

Once the floor was cleared, Harry went back to his grandfather's car and looked it over. The paint was perfect and the chrome trim gleamed. He couldn't wait to get it out on the road.

"Guess I'll be asking Dad for driving lessons tonight, huh?" he commented to the car. He snorted. "Look at me. I've only had you for ten minutes, and I'm already talking to you like Sirius does his bike. Pretty sad." He was smiling as he used a rag to wipe off the smudge he had put on the door when he had touched it earlier, and tried to imagine what his grandfather might have been like.

An hour and a half later, Harry was patting his car goodbye as Sirius tossed the last of the day's dirty rags into a bright orange bucket by the back door.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Harry followed Sirius out to his car. "How long do you think it'll be before I can drive it?"

Sirius shrugged as he turned the key in the ignition. "You'll have it by the time school starts. Don't think we're going to just rush through the work so you can have that car to play with. And don't think I'm doing it all."

"I don't." Harry looked out the window, his parents' conversation from Sunday night coming back to him. Lily seemed so annoyed that he spent talked with Sirius so easily.... Bothered, he asked, "Did I use to just hang out with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like today, when I just turned up at the garage. Did I use to do that, or did I, you know, only see you when you came to the house to see Dad?"

"I guess more when I was visiting your dad. But you use to be too busy with soccer to do anything else anyway."

Harry nodded slowly.

"Besides," Sirius added, "it's cool to have you to hang out with. And I know your dad's been wanting to get that car off the lift for the longest time. He'll be glad we're gonna start working on it."

He nodded again. He was quiet for the rest of the ride home.

When Sirius and Harry walked into the house, Sirius kicked his shoes off and called, "Hey, Jamie, I got something for you!"

James, still in his suit and tie from work, stuck his head around the kitchen door. "Yeah?"

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "It wandered into the shop. Thought you might want it back."

Harry pushed Sirius's hand away and glared at him. "I didn't wander. I meant to be there."

His brow furrowing, James asked, "What were you doing downtown? I thought you were going to the school with Ron."

"After practice a bunch of us went out to lunch at the pizza place on the corner." For a second, he felt like he'd done something wrong again, but then James said, "Next time you're going out to eat, let me know and I'll make sure to get you your allowance so you have some money on you."

"You spoil him. Should make him get a job and earn his play money."

"Lily and I feel like playing sports and keeping his grades up are the only jobs he should be concerned with until he's done with school," James replied.

"You mean _Lily_ feels." Pushing James out of the doorway lightly, Sirius went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"We should make you start eating at your own place," James retorted.

"You're sounding like Lily again," Sirius informed him gravely, taking a pile of bagged lunch meats and cheese out and closing the door.

Giving in, James opened the refrigerator and got himself and Sirius sodas, and said, "Make me a sandwich, too. Harry, you want anything?"

"Just a drink. I'm still full from lunch." Harry caught the can of soda James tossed to him and looked around the room. "Where's Mom?"

"Working late. The senior class wanted to start having a weekly study group to get ahead on their final projects, and your mum agreed to oversee it."

"She's a real sweetheart," Sirius said around a mouthful of sandwich.

"I'll tell her you said that," James threatened with a wicked smile.

Harry took a sip of his drink and leaned against the counter. "Why don't you and Mom like each other?"

"It's not that we don't like each other. We just don't get along all the time," Sirius explained with his mouth full. "She thinks I'm a bad influence on her impressionable husband."

"You are a bad influence," James replied around his own bite of sandwich. "But I'm not impressionable. I think she's more worried about what you'll turn our son into if he watches you too much."

"Hey, you and Lily would have him loafing around the house doing nothing and getting chore money for it. _I_ have been spending the day teaching him the value of honestly earned wages."

Looking at Sirius shrewdly, James said, "So you made Harry help you in the shop today. Big deal. Bet you didn't even pay him for it."

"Experience is invaluable."

Cutting into their conversation before James could answer, Harry said, "Thursday Sirius and I are gonna start working on the Mustang."

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

James looked like Christmas had come early. "That's great. Grandpa would have loved to be able to see you working on his car." He beamed proudly.

Grinning, Harry said, "I can't wait."

"Before you put him in that car, he needs some decent driving lessons, though," Sirius advised, swallowing the last of his sandwich.

"Yeah, we'll go over that again," he said dismissively. Not even a reminder of his son's embarrassing driving episode seemed able to erase James's smile.

Feeling equally elated, Harry was just glad he finally had found something in his new life that he really wanted to do that also made his dad happy.

They stood in the kitchen for another hour, snacking on chips and soda, and talking about Grandpa's old Mustang: all the work they had to do on it and how great it would be to take it out when it was finished. The conversation flowed easily and Harry was surprised to find himself feeling so comfortable around his dad. It was like having two Siriuses.

**~~***~~**

The next couple weeks melted away in a comfortable haze. Between spending time with his friends and working on the Mustang, Harry had very little time to be bored. When he didn't have plans out of the house, he usually ended up with plenty of company: there was always someone coming or going, or both. He had also gotten his books and was now spending Wednesday nights with Remus going over a loose outline of the civics material.

As he eased more into the life he had left behind, Harry found himself forgetting about Hogwarts. Well, not forgetting it, really. Just thinking of it like a movie he had seen a long time ago. The memories from the dream weren't fading, but it was becoming increasingly more obvious that they were just that: memories. Whenever he started to feel nostalgic about the dream, something or someone would come along and take his mind off it.

The only part of his new life that he hadn't managed to fit back into was the church thing. He hadn't been back to the chapel since that first weekend and Lily, at James's urging, hadn't pushed it; though she did give him Pastor Riddle's "sincerest hello and blessing" each Sunday when she and James returned from service. Other than that, life was nearly perfect.

But as was always the case, a snag arose in the temporarily smooth flow of events. As the day of Harry's check up with Dr. Crawford grew closer and closer, the tension began to mount once again. More than anything, Harry was concerned about James getting angry with him if Dr. Crawford cleared him to play soccer and he still said no. James _had_ said it was all right, but Harry wasn't so sure.

Now, sitting in Dr. Crawford's office in an x-ray gown, waiting for him to return with the CT results, Harry couldn't think of anything to say.

Lily, who was sitting in one of the chairs by the wall, leaned forward and patted Harry's knee. "It'll be OK, honey."

Harry tried to force a smile for her sake, but he could tell by her look of heightened concern that it probably came out as more of a grimace.

The seconds passed like an eternity. Just when Harry was sure he would go crazy from hearing the clock's mocking tick, the office door opened.

Bustling into the room with several wide sheets of black and gray CT films, Dr. Crawford said, "Well, here we go. Sorry to keep you waiting so long."

"How's it look?" James demanded anxiously.

Dr. Crawford set the films on the counter and adjusted his thick glasses. He sighed deeply, then smiled. "Everything is working."

Peering at the dark films, not understanding any of the blotches, Harry asked, "So I'm all right?"

"You are in perfect health. If I didn't know better, I would say you'd never had any physical trauma besides a broken arm, let alone a major car accident."

"Harry's never broken his arm," Lily said, frowning.

Dr. Crawford scowled at her. "Of course he has. It's all over the films."

"I think I'd know if my own son had done something like broken his arm!"

_Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm...._

The very vivid image of Professor Lockhart hovering over him, his wand held high so the gathering crowd could see his genius, flooded Harry's mind. The pungent, sticky taste of Skele-Gro crept up the back of his tongue and he felt like he was going to vomit.

"My good woman, I think I'd know--"

"Why does it matter?" Harry interrupted. "My arm is fine right now, and you said the rest of the scans are good, so who cares?"

Lily and Dr. Crawford looked at Harry with identically stunned expressions.

"I just want to get dressed and go home." As he slid off the table, he found that his legs were shaking too violently to hold him and he had to lean back to keep from falling.

James stood up. "Harry."

"I just want to go home, OK?" He pushed himself away from the examination table and forced his legs to support him to the chair in which his clothes were piled.

James rested a steadying hand on his son's shoulder. "Doctor, you said the scans are clear. Can we take him home now?"

Dr. Crawford bristled, adjusted his glasses again, and nodded curtly.

After his parents and Dr. Crawford had left the room, Harry slowly changed back into his regular clothes. His hands shook as he tried to button his shirt. For the first time in weeks, he had to remind himself that the dream wasn't real.

_It was a trauma-induced figment of your imagina_tion, he scolded himself. _If there was something weird in the scans, it's because ol' Doc Crawford needs a stronger prescription in his glasses_. Harry wiped his palms, which were clammy and itchy, on his jeans, then pushed his shoes on. _It's not real. _This_ is real._ He opened the office door and stopped, watching his parents talking to the on-duty nurse at the registration counter. _Mom and Dad are real_, he thought firmly.

Noticing Harry, Lily smiled. "All ready?"

Harry nodded and he and his parents walked down the hall and out through the lobby. Harry tried to ignore the concerned looks James was giving him periodically.

When they got home, Harry kicked off his shoes and started up the stairs.

"Do you want lunch?"

"Not hungry," he said shortly, not looking behind him as he jogged up to his bedroom. Closing his door and locking it, Harry took the cell phone his parents had gotten him when he started going out more regularly and punched in Hermione's number.

"Granger residence."

"Hermione?"

"Hi! How did your appointment go?"

"Can you come over?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes." She hung up the phone, and Harry could almost see her rushing out the door.

Harry hadn't been spending nearly as much time with Hermione as he had Ron, but it seemed natural. She was spending most of her summer working on a tutoring program at the library, and almost every time Harry and Ron invited her out to do something, she said she was busy with that. She didn't seem to mind going out with Harry when it was just the two of them, though.

The minutes went by slower than they had in the doctor's office as Harry waited, straining his ears for Hermione's voice from the downstairs hall. He began pacing and only stopped when he heard the doorbell ring. Flinging his bedroom door open, he raced down the stairs, cutting in front of James just in time to open the front door. "Got it."

Hermione was standing on the porch, smiling. "Hi, Harry."

"Hey. Come on in."

"Don't run down the stairs like that," James admonished lightly.

"Sorry." Harry turned to Hermione. "Let's go to my room."

"Leave your door open!" Lily called after the two as they jogged up the stairs.

Harry rolled his eyes and Hermione giggled a little. When they were safely in his room, the door closed and locked, Harry sank onto his bed.

Dropping onto the desk chair, Hermione looked at him expectantly. After a moment of silence, she asked, "So, what'd the doctor say?"

"Is it possible," he started slowly, "to get hurt while you're sleeping?"

"What? Like if you fell out of bed and bumped into your night table?"

"No." Harry sighed. "When Dr. Crawford was looking at the CT scans, he said I was perfectly fine except evidence of an old broken arm."

Hermione frowned. "You've never broken your arm."

"But that's just it. I _did _break my arm. Sort of. In my dream. I fell off-- I had an accident when I was playing sports, and my bones were-- I broke my arm."

"You can't have signs from a broken bone just by dreaming it happened."

"So why was it in the scan?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. It could have just been a warp or a flaw in the film they printed the scan on. Or Dr. Crawford could have misread what he was seeing. He's not exactly the slickest guy at the hospital, and everyone knows he's half blind."

Harry nodded hopefully, though a part of him felt these things were just convenient excuses.

"Was it the same arm you broke in your dream?"

He thought a moment. "He didn't actually say which one it was."

"Well, see? You don't even know if it was the same one. It was probably just the film. People have been diagnosed with fractures just because an x-ray tech's hair fell on the film before it was photographed on."

Hermione sounded so sure her explanation must be right that it was infectious. Before long, Harry was nodding his firm agreement and laughing at how scared he had gotten over something as silly as a hair on a film he hadn't even seen.

"Now that we've settled that, how did it go otherwise?"

Harry leaned back on his bed, resting on his elbows. "Perfect. We didn't quite get around to asking if I could play soccer, but I'm sure he would have said something if I couldn't."

"You aren't going to, are you?"

Shaking his head, Harry shifted his weight and looked out the window. "I just hope Dad doesn't bring it up. We've been getting along really good for the past couple weeks."

Hermione didn't reply for a second. "You know he _will_ ask about it," she ventured slowly.

Harry sighed.

"So you should beat him to it. If you bring it up, it'll be a lot easier than if you wait for him to come to you about it."

"He knows I don't want to," Harry said, thinking about their short conversation after dinner at Remus's two weeks ago. Somehow, though, despite his hopes, he didn't think that counted as having settled the matter.

Reading the uncertainty in his voice, Hermione said, "Then just remind him that you already told him how you feel. He might be thinking you changed your mind. You have been going to watch a lot of the practices lately."

"I've been going to hang out with Ron and the rest of the guys," he corrected. "It just happens to be at a soccer field."

"But you _do_ have to admit that it's a bit misleading," she pressed doggedly.

Harry didn't reply.

"You need to talk to him."

Harry sighed again. He had always appreciated Hermione's honest assessment of a situation, but that didn't mean he wanted it all the time. Right now, he would have much preferred to have her say he had been perfectly clear and if James didn't understand, it was just because of wishful thinking on his part. The truth, however, as was often the case, didn't fit so nicely as that into Harry's ideal.

"I guess I could bring it up when we're at Sirius's tomorrow. At least with a witness he might not ream me out too much."

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "It won't be nearly as bad as you think it will."

"Hm," he said noncommittally.

TBC


	6. In Which Harry Goes to Church

Did I say one chunk a week? Oh well. I just happened to have a couple days off. The posting will slow down after the next couple chapters. (For anyone interested in current length expectations, I think I have somewhere close to 16 chapters worth of stuff, depending on where I put the breaks.) Technically, I suppose I should be putting some effort into homework...but writing is so much more fun! And This section contains one of my all-time favorite scenes. Not **THE** favorite scene, but a very good one.

And this section is a bit longer than the others: I couldn't find a good place to break it sooner without makign two extremely short chapters, so there you have it. Please enjoy and review. ^_^

**~~***~~**

The next day, Harry didn't have to worry about waiting for James to mention soccer, nor was it a concern for him to do it. Sirius took care of the situation for him as soon as he and his father walked into the garage.

"So, how's our little soccer star?" Sirius teased, grinned as he watched Harry and James come through the door.

Harry stopped. That wasn't how he wanted this to start.... At the moment, he was more for slowly pulling from the corner than a one-quick-yank approach to rip the Band-Aid off, but it was too late for that now. Stuck between Sirius's expectant smile and James's curious stare, he mumbled, "Guess I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean? The doctor said if you could play soccer, right?"

"He cleared me as healthy," Harry said evasively.

"But you can't play?"

"I probably could," he said slowly.

"Sirius, stopped bothering him," James said suddenly. "He's taking the year off sports to concentrate on school. He told you that already."

Harry strained to decipher his father's words and tone, trying to hear any annoyance or disappointment. The voice was as even and casual as if he just commented on the weather.

"Well, yeah, I know he did. I just thought he was only saying that so he wouldn't get his hopes up."

"There's no concern about raised hopes here," James answered. He crossed the garage and peered into the open hood of the Mustang. It was right where they had left it on Tuesday.

Sirius cast a concerned glance between Harry and James, then walked over to his friend, wiping his hands on a rag that was probably just as dirty as they themselves were. "Looks good, doesn't it?"

"Hmm. What'd you do to it?"

"The new fuel filter came in this morning. I took the old one out already."

James nodded then turned to Harry. "Well, suit up. Your mum would kill me if I let you ruin your new jeans."

Still feeling slightly awkward, and wondering if Sirius's concerned look meant he could read James's mood better than Harry could--which wouldn't have surprised him in the least--he wandered to the back of the garage and took down a set of overalls. Glancing over, he noticed that James's and Sirius's heads were bent together and they were talking softly.

_And there goes everything I've been working on for the past two weeks_, Harry thought with a silent groan. He was back on stranger-terms with his father and the thought bothered him more than he had suspected it would. Frustrated and hardly in the mood to be working so closely with James when he knew the man didn't want to be working so closely with him, Harry stuffed his feet into the coveralls, pulled them up, and wandered listlessly towards the other two.

"Pick up the pace, kid-o," Sirius commented. "I wanna finish this filter tonight."

Harry made a low sound and went up to the opposite side of the hood from James and Sirius, and peered into the wires and tank wells of the car's interior.

Sirius and Harry worked mostly in silence for several minutes with James looking on, equally as quiet. Every now and then, Sirius would give Harry instructions which he would follow wordlessly.

Finally, seeming unable to stand the lack of noise, Sirius said, "Hey, Jamie, guess who stopped in yesterday?"

"Santa Claus," he answered humorlessly.

"Close. I used to only see the guy at Christmas."

"Who?"

"Pastor Riddle."

Harry dropped the filter he was trying to fit into the empty space.

Sirius, unaware of Harry's reaction, laughed a little as he said, "He asked me why I wasn't at church last Sunday."

"D'you remind him you're never at church any Sunday?"

"Naw. I just said I was working. He didn't like that too much."

"So, what? Are you going to burn in hell again?"

"Nope. He went for the guilt trip this time. Told me he remembered when I was a deacon, and how proud he used to be of me. He says, 'Young Sirius, I wish I could be as proud of you today as I was then.'" He shook his head. "That guy never quits. Why do you go to that place?"

"Well," James said after a moment, "we started going to church because we thought it would be good for Harry to grow up with."

"Hell of a lot of good that did, huh?"

"Pastor's been badgering Lily and me lately. Wondering why we're not making him go."

Siruis snorted. "It's my bad example. Pastor Riddle told me so himself."

"Harry's old enough to make his own choices," James replied evenly.

Whether it was his father's coolness towards him, the heavy silence of the three of them in general, or the mention of Tom Riddle, Harry wasn't sure, but he felt irrationally irritated. "Harry's also standing right here, you know," Harry said, glaring at James. "You don't have to talk like I'm not in the room."

"Since I was talking to Sirius, _not you_," he emphasized, "I don't think it's any of your concern how I talk about you."

Sirius smirked like he was watching an amusing TV show.

Continuing to glare, Harry went back to work, not looking up again. He just wanted to go home, have a shower, and crawl into bed.

James sighed in frustration, threw the empty filter box he was holding onto the counter, and marched across the garage and into the office.

"Wow," Sirius commented nonchalantly. "That normally would have gotten bloody."

Harry glared harder.

Sirius sighed. "He wasn't trying to make you feel bad. You usually have a little more fight in you than that."

Looking up, Harry said, "I don't feel like fighting any more, OK? He's my dad. We're suppose to get along."

"You have been getting along. You think parents don't argue with their kids every now and then?"

"Not over stupid things like _that_," he sneered more viciously than he meant to. He went back to screwing the filter cover on to give himself an excuse not to look at or talk to Sirius.

Sirius sighed again, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strolled across to the office door through which James had disappeared.

When Sirius was safely out of the garage, the door closed, Harry threw down the screwdriver, turned sharply, and leaned against the car, his arms folded tightly over his chest. After several minutes of standing in the silence, Harry picked up the screwdriver and walked over to put it back in the red, upright tool box in the third bay. Stripping the coveralls off and tossing them into the pile by the back door, he skulked towards the office. As he approached, he heard James's and Sirius's angry voices shooting back and forth at each other. The words were indistinct, but the tones were all he really needed to hear.

Harry changed his course and went out through the open bay door. He stared off at the red sky that was visible over the pizza place, took a deep, relaxing breath, and sighed. A warm breeze ruffled his hair and the sounds of a summer night commencing filled his thoughts until he could hear nothing else. He stood like that for ten minutes; his hands in his pockets, his ear turned to the bustling street, his eyes on the fiery clouds that swam around a hazy, setting sun.

When he finally returned to motion, it was with another sigh. Broken from whatever trance the coming night air had put him in, Harry turned back to the building. Walking around to the main entrance, he pushed the door open and stepped into the thick scent of oil and gasoline. He listened for a moment and heard voices, much more subdued, coming from the back room. Harry started down the hall to the partially-closed metal door.

"I just feel like every time we talk about something besides the weather or the car, I end the conversation by attacking him," James was saying dejectedly. "I don't mean to be like that."

"He knows you don't mean it."

"Couldn't tell by the way he looks me afterwards. You'd think I killed his best friend."

Slowly, Harry pushed the door opened.

James and Sirius looked up.

"It's getting to about seven-thirty, so we should probably go," Harry said quietly.

"Did you clean up out in the garage?" Sirius asked.

"Not much. I'll go do that." As he pulled the door closed, he heard James snort contemptuously. His insides burning, Harry walked back to the garage and started putting the tools away. When that was finished, he swept the bay around the Mustang, took care of the rags, and put the lift back up to open the floor space a bit. When he turned back toward the office, he saw James and Sirius standing in the door, quietly finishing their conversation.

After one last comment under his breath to Sirius, James looked at Harry and said, "Ready to head out?"

Harry nodded.

Sirius looked around. "You did a decent job cleaning up this time. Even got the tools back in the right place." Walking past Harry, he ruffled his hair quickly, then took the broom from its place leaning against the wall. "I might change my mind about that summer job comment if you don't watch it."

He just shrugged a little. Harry could tell Sirius was trying to make him feel better, but it was only making things worse.

"Night, Siri."

"Night." Despite his cheeriness for Harry's sake, Sirius seemed down as he bidded his best friend farewell.

"See you Sunday, right?"

"Sunday?" Harry asked.

Smirking and rolling his eyes, Sirius said, "I've been invited to dinner, but only on the condition that I go to church, too. If not, I have to suffer through Peter's mother's green bean casserole."

Harry's lip curled involuntarily. Thinking that Peter had a mother of any kind was revolting.

"But I warn you, Jamie. If Pastor Riddle starts talking to me, I might say something that shouldn't be said in a church building."

"Then he'll stop bugging you to go, won't he?" James said with a grin, taking his keys out of his pocket.

"He'd probably just have me flogged by a nun."

"Baptist, not Catholic. No nuns."

"I knew there was a reason I stopped going to that church." He looked at Harry. "You better be up by the time I get to your house in the morning, or you're getting dumped in a cold shower."

"I sleep in on Sundays," Harry answered firmly, leveling a definant gaze at Sirius. He knew where they were going with this.... If Sirius went, maybe Harry would agree to. There was no way.

"Not this Sunday. If I have to play dress up, so do you."

Figuring he had had enough for one night, Harry forwent arguing, deciding to deal with it when Sunday morning came. Somehow it was harder to give Sirius a direct "no" than it was to do so with his parents. He supposed it had to do with the fact that he--and he had to be honest with himself to admit it--viewed Sirius as more of an authority figure than James or Lily. It was strange and he could only imagine what shouting Lily would have to do about it if she knew....

As he followed James out to the car, Harry was so lost in thought that he didn't notice when James stopped short, and bumped into him. "What?"

James held the car keys out to him. "Driving lesson," he stated.

"Dad, I really shouldn't."

"Of course you should." He continued to hold out the keys stubbornly. After a moment, he said, "We're not going home unless you drive, so either take the keys or find a comfy place to curl up."

Grudgingly, Harry took the keys. "If I kill us, it's your fault," he muttered, going to the driver's side door.

"You won't kill us."

As Harry slid into the car, he wondered about James's behavior. He seemed to be in the same mood he'd been in earlier, but if he was still mad, why was he letting Harry drive? When James closed his door, Harry put the key in the ignition.

"Just a small turn and let go."

He still held it a second too long, but James didn't comment.

Pushing in on the brake, Harry shifted into drive and slowly eased his foot from one petal to the other. The car jerked forward and he had to slam the brake down to keep from driving right out into traffic.

"Directional. And make sure to check both ways."

"I know." Harry turned the directional, his palms sweating at he contemplated darting out into the heavy, summer night traffic.

"Be patient. We're not in a hurry." Several wide gaps passed. "No hurry," he said, "but we should try to get home tonight."

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed in on the gas and turned the car onto the road at the next chance. The rest of the ride home went fairly well. He had a hard time getting a feel for the brake, and he kept going much faster than he needed to, but, all in all, it went OK.

James kept his comments to simple instructions and reminders, and when Harry finally pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, he just nodded, slapped Harry's shoulder, and said, "Not too bad, huh?"

"Not really."

James nodded and looked like he wanted to say something else. After a second, he opened his door and got out.

Getting out also, Harry walked around and gave James the keys. "I'm sorry I lost my temper today."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who lost my temper. You're just...." he trailed off, words that he obviously wanted to say dying as they met his better judgment.

Deciding to take the initiative, Harry said, "Sirius said I'm a lot different now than I use to be."

James nodded slowly, looking at his keys as he turned them over in his hands. "Yeah, but that's OK. I just need to start respecting that, I guess." He sighed. "I just have to say--"

"Dad, don't." It suddenly didn't seem important to Harry that he hear what his dad had to say. All that seemed important was knowing that the man still cared for him, and wanted him to be his son.

"No, Harry. Listen. I put too much pressure on you. Even when I don't mean to, I'm doing it, and I'm sorry. If you don't want to play soccer, it's OK. Really, it is." The even, talk-about-the-weather tone had left his voice and he was looking Harry in the eye for the first time since they had arrived at Sirius's.

Slowly, he said, "Is it OK if I don't want to go to church, too?" James opened his mouth to answer, but Harry cut him off. "Because I'd rather play soccer than go to church."

James laughed a little. "It's OK. But I should warn you, Pastor Riddle all but invited himself to dinner for Sunday depending on whether or not he sees you at service."

A huge battle raged inside Harry. He didn't want to see that man ever, anywhere. Now, faced with the fact that he wouldd have to, whether at home or church, he couldn't decide which would be worse. He thought of Hermione's advise about talking to his father, and decided it would be easier to go to Riddle on his own terms, not wait for him to come when he pleased.

"If I go this weekend, and tell him I'm not going any more, in person, do you think he'd stop wanting to talk to me?"

Grinning, he said, "Sirius has told him to leave him alone about once a month since we were fourteen, and it hasn't worked. But who knows? He might listen to you."

Harry sighed and nodded. "I'll go. But only to get this over with because I don't feel like having him follow me home just to give me his 'sincerest hellos and blessings.'"

Clapping him on the shoulder, James said, "Good choice." As they started up the walkway to the porch, he said, "Just keep an open mind. You may find you still like it."

"Hmm." _Maybe not_, he thought, images of Tom Riddle beating him over the head with a Bible with demented glee flashing into his mind.

**~~***~~**

Harry was used to wearing a tie, as it had been a part of the school uniform, but this particular tie wasn't a school uniform tie. It was a church tie, and that makes all the difference. Pulling at it once again, trying to get it to a place where it wasn't choking him, he looked up the table, fidgeting slightly. His foot was tapping uncontrollably.

"More eggs?"

He shook his head at his mother. He had only managed to choke down the ones that she put on his plate earlier out of a need to be doing _anything_ to make the time go by faster.

Sirius stretched and yawned. By the looks of it, Sunday was usually his sleep-in day, too.

Lily stood up and started clearing the table. When she was done, she led the procession out to the car, her yellow, flowered dress swirling around her in the light breeze. She looked like a model out of a laundry detergent commercial.

Once they were piled into the car, Harry hunched in the backseat beside Sirius, who looked possibly as annoyed as he, himself felt, and listen mutely while his parents made conversation in the front seat.

It didn't seem to take nearly long enough to get to the church. Harry had hoped for more time to collect what he was going to say. He didn't trust himself to rely on coming up with things on the spot, while he was meeting the pastor. If he did that, he might end up saying something that, as Sirius put it, shouldn't be said inside a church building.

James pulled into a parking space and said, "Everybody out."

"I could stay here," Sirius volunteered, peering warily out the window at the church, as if it were Azkaban itself, and the black-robed choir members flocking to the side door, dementors.

Drawing the parallel in his mind, Harry couldn't help but chuckle. It turned into a slightly hysterical laugh for a few seconds before he got himself under control.

Lily, James, and Sirius were looking at him with expressions of confusion, concern, and amusement, respectively.

Harry cleared his throat, forced a smile, and said, "Just remembered something Ron said the other day. It was funny," he finished lamely. He opened the door and got out before anyone could comment or ask questions. He stood by the car while his parents climbed out, and watched at James coaxed Sirius out, then followed his mother into the church. Almost as soon as he walked through the door, goose bumps rose on his arms and he felt queasy.

"We usually sit up here," Lily said softly.

Trying not to look around, Harry slid onto the hard, wooden pew and peered down at his hands. The organ music crooned from directly in front of him, and he was sure he'd heard only one thing more horrendous: Mermish. The old lady crouched behind the huge instrument, pushing its keys, was withered and hunched. She had glasses like Dr. Crawford's, and her thin, sagging lips were drawn in a placated, slightly despondent smile, as if she didn't quite know where she was. She looked up and smiled at him, and a terrified jolt gripped his gut.

It was Trelawney. A slightly more gone-to-seed Trelawney, with none of the bangles and sparkling earrings, but the large eyes floating outside her head, and the airy character of her smile and the sway with which she kept time with the music were unmistakable.

Not even able to manage a half smile back at her, Harry turned in his seat, pretending to be looking for someone so he wouldn't have to be looking at her. He noticed James and Sirius coming through the door and up the aisle. James's hand was on Sirius's elbow as he guided him.

When Sirius sat beside Harry, he muttered, "I hate this place. It reminds me of my mother." For all the misery in the poor man's face, the choir box in front of them might have actually held dementors.

_No wonder he looked so hesitant to come in_, Harry mused, remembering what he knew as Mrs. Black: the painting on the wall at Grimmauld. In an effort to find some humor in the situation, he whispered back, "I won't even tell you what it reminds me of. I think it's probably along the lines of something that shouldn't be said in a church building."

Sirius smirked.

"There's Pastor Riddle," James said quietly, nodding towards the front of the room.

Harry looked on with dread, feeling all the things he had felt the night he watched Voldemort's deformed body emerge from the cauldron as he now watched the man emerge from the clergy room. Riddle walked up the steps to the pulpit area and took a seat between two other men. He leaned first to one (who was, Harry realized with another sick jolt, Lucius Malfoy), and then to the other, whispering to each in turn. When he finished, he sat up and surveyed the filling room with an odd expression of satisfaction and dominance. When his eyes fell on Harry, he smiled a warm smile that did not reach his eyes.

Harry merely stared back, defiant, yet uneasy. He only noticed his hands were shaking when Sirius leaned over and whispered, "You OK?"

"I'm fine," he answered, a little more loudly than he meant to, causing Lily to turn to him with worry.

"Are you feeling all right, honey?"

"I'm fine." Or so he thought he was, until the clergy door opened again and a tall, yet bent figure with a silvery beard and small, half moon spectacles perched on a crooked nose walked out. The man was all the way up the stairs and lowered into the last empty seat behind the pulpit before Harry fully grasped what he was seeing.

_Dumbledore! He's here!_

In all his desires for this new world, Harry had never dared to hope that Dumbledore might be there. He may have had a shadow of a hope, but once he had learned that Ginny didn't exist, all thoughts for Dumbledore had left him. Now seeing him, a longing almost beyond control to run up to the man and make sure he was really there leapt into Harry chest. Likewise, a deep desire to yell for Riddle not to go near Dumbledore rose as Harry watched him lean forward as he had to Lucius and the other man, whisper, and smile before sitting back in his seat.

After his customary word with Pastor Riddle, Dumbledore looked over the people crowding into the pews. His expression was more of love and gratitude: a much more fitting expression for a clergyman. When he caught Harry's eye, his calm smile widened and he winked quickly.

Tears prickled in the corners of Harry's eyes and the only thing that stopped him from leaving the room was the music coming to a halt right in the middle of the song, and Pastor Riddle rising with a majestic sweep to approach the pulpit.

The service passed in a blur. Harry was mildly aware of Pastor Riddle looking at him pointedly at random intervals, but the words were lost on him. He was too busy watching Dumbledore, who continued to sit beside Lucius Malfoy, his elbows on the arms of his chair, his fingers steeped under his chin, his eyes fixed with wise interest on Riddle.

The final hymn was a slow, mournful one that dragged on forever, and the closing prayer seemed to stretch to cover everything from blessing the sinners to damning them. When at last Riddle closed with a solemn, "Amen," Harry fought not to say, "Thank god," though he wasn't sure that would be an entirely inappropriate statement.

As he opened his eyes and lifted his head, Harry vaguely heard his mother asking him what he thought, but he did not answer her. He was already standing and moving towards the front of the room along with a few other parishioners who wanted to greet the good pastor.

When Harry drew to nearly in front of him, Tom Riddle smiled and opened his mouth in what would have been a sincerest hello, but Harry didn't stop. He squeezed between Riddle and Mrs. Figg and shamelessly climbed the stairs to the pulpit, stopping only when he was standing directly in front of Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile, as though he had beckoned Harry to the stage himself.

Lucius was looking at Harry with all the prideful contempt he could muster.

When he had started his walk, Harry had had no idea what he was going to say. Now that he was there, face-to-face with Dumbledore, Tom Riddle forgotten, he still found no words.

Gently, Dumbledore said, "Why don't we go into my office for a moment?"

Harry nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak, then followed as Dumbledore led the way off the stand and through the clergy door. He stopped before entering the room beyond and looked back at his parents. They and Sirius were watching him with uncertainty. Focusing closer, Harry noticed that Pastor Riddle was watching him, too, his dark eyes blank and calculating, his mouth curved in a slight frown that turned his handsome face into a ugly scowl. Harry returned the stare defiantly for several seconds, then walked through the door, pulling it closed.

Looking around, Harry found that he was not in a room at all. He was standing in a corridor with four doors.

Dumbledore stood at the first on the right, a ring of keys in his hand as he searched for the one he wanted. When he found it, he unlocked the door and stepped aside, gesturing for Harry to enter first. "Please, sit."

The office was not the room full of swirling smoke and strange, magical objects that the other Dumbledore's had been, but it was no less interesting, in its own way. The walls were covered by ceiling-high bookshelves, each packed to bursting. Some of the spines that showed were crisp leather, shining and immaculate. Others were worn and lined with too much reading. There were trinkets and photographs setting around, and the desk in the middle of the room held not only the necessary Bible, pen, and writing pad, but also a contraption with several silver balls hung on strings in a row and one of those Plexiglas blocks with blunt pins that one could press their hand into one side of and see the metallic representation of it on the other.

Dumbledore settled behind his desk while Harry sat in the small, wooden seat in front of it. "I would ask how you are, but you seem to already know what you want to talk about, so I'll let you go first," he said kindly.

Harry started to say he didn't know what he wanted to tell him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the entire story of what he had dreamed came out instead. The moment Dumbledore offered him turned into minutes, the minutes into an hour, the first hour into a second. When Harry finally stopped, the sun-shaped clock over the far window stated the time to be two-fifteen.

Through the tale, Dumbledore had been listening with patient attention. He had steepled his fingers around the part where Harry, Ron, and Hermione knocked out the troll, and his brow had creased with some unreadable emotion when Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron in the graveyard, but other than that, he showed no signs of what he was thinking.

His throat hoarse, his eyes burning with suppressed tears as the emotions of finally being able to tell someone the whole story of where he had been threatened to overwhelm him, Harry finished his story and waited. This was the part where if anything bad was going to happen, it would, he decided.

"You have been through something, haven't you?" was Dumbledore's first comment. "And now, hearing this, I no longer wonder why you were not attending service, though I was fairly positive you'd have a very good reason."

Harry was silent, waiting for something a little more concrete.

"The mind is a strange thing, my boy, and you have spent a month trapped in the deepest, most hidden reaches of yours."

"So you don't think I'm crazy for not being able to remember anything?"

"You do remember things," the old man said firmly. "You remember who you are, and you remember what things you hold important. You remember your friendships and those you love."

Harry nodded slowly. That wasn't what he thought Dumbledore would tell him. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, though.

Dumbledore continued, "From the sounds of it, you became a different character through your dream, I admit. But you are still the same person. And I must say I am flattered that you have thought of me as a mentor."

"Are-- Were you? For real?" he asked slowly. "Or is it completely weird that I just told you all that stuff?"

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "I have held many of your confidences over the years. And I have been your deacon training advisor since you were eleven."

Harry smiled back.

"Quite a few of the events in your dream do seem to coincide with things that happened in your real life, and in the lives of those you told me about. You are, no doubt, wondering if I'm going to be upset with you, or suggest that you are less than admirable for some of those things you have revealed to me."

For a moment, Harry wondered if it was possible for this Dumbledore to read minds as well. He decided not. Partially because some of him knew it was ridiculous, but mostly because he had spent a good many hours over the previous month convincing himself that the Dursleys were right and that magic did not exist, and he didn't want to let himself start hoping it might.

"Let me assure you, I have as much respect for you as I always have. I have even more. You are coming through something many adults I know could not manage, and you are doing splendidly. I do wish you didn't have to feel like you'd lived through so many terrible things, though."

"Even now, when I let myself think about it too long, it feels real again," Harry confessed guiltily, staring at his hands.

"That's because it was real to you. And it will remain real until you get your real memories back. Rather, _if_ you get them back back."

_If...._ Dumbledore was the first person to verbalize the reality that Harry might never regain those things he had lost. Lily hinted at it with her occasionally sad eyes, and Hermione tried to tactfully bring the possibility up on a number of occasions, but this was the first time it was mentioned so bluntly as something that could actually happen.

"What if I don't?" he asked quietly.

"You go on like you have been, being the person you are, and you will be no worse off. I dare say you'd be better off in some respects." Dumbledore leaned forward and said, "There is nothing you have lost that cannot be found if you seek after it. If you want to return to the person you were, seek out that person. Do the things that person did. But I will advise you that this will not make you that person. It will not make you happy. You have become different, and you have different likes, desires, fears. Be who you are, Harry. That has always been more than enough to make those who love you proud of you."

"What if the person I am now doesn't want to be a deacon?" he ventured, wondering if Dumbledore's professions carried to the church.

"I would not have you for a deacon if you did want to," he answered plainly.

Feeling slightly hurt, Harry peered out the far window so he didn't have to look at the man.

"You have things on your mind that need sorting. I would be pleased if you would continue to attend church. And if you want to sit in on training classes still, I would be more than delighted to have you. But as to your advancement to deaconhood at the end of this year, I would not press such a burden upon you at this time."

_It's like when he didn't make me a prefect_, Harry mused. _Only this time he's explaining it_.

"And if you feel uneasy about attending service because of Pastor Riddle, I will say I understand. But I also hope you understand that he is different."

Recalling the glare in the man's eyes as he'd watched Harry followed Dumbledore into the clergy room, Harry muttered, "Not too different."

Dumbledore smiled understandingly. "He can be overzealous at turns, but all in all he's a good man who's trying to do the right thing. I'm not saying to force something that makes you uncomfortable. I would not be so quick to associate with a man who so closely resembled someone who I had memories of for killing my parents. But there is a level at which you are responsible to place those feelings and false memories so they do not interfere with what is real. What's important to you. I would be more than willing to help you work through that process."

Harry nodded slowly. Now he just had to decide if this was important enough to work through being able to associate with Tom Riddle. He was only just starting to get used to Wormtail skulking around.... The longing to be near Dumbledore and to do what he knew would make the man proud was very strong. So much so that Harry asked, "Does he go to the deacon thing?"

"Pastor Riddle?"

He nodded.

"Not usually. I am in charge of the younger clergy and he usually leaves me to my charges."

"Could I just start by going to that, then, and worry about trying to go to regular service later?"

Dumbledore smiled a little and nodded. "Of course." Dumbledore looked up at the clock. "Well, if there's nothing else you need to talk about, I'm sure your parents are waiting."

"Yeah, probably." Harry stood up. "Thanks."

"Our class starts at four, if you were planning to come this afternoon."

"I might. I have to talk to Mom and Dad." As he started for the door, he stopped. "You aren't going to report all this to the pastor, are you?"

"None of what you have told me is any of his business. I do not see that your immortal soul is in danger, nor do you seem to be unstable." He smiled and winked again, much like he had earlier.

Harry smiled again.

Dumbledore said sincerely, "I'll be very glad to have you back in class."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, then left and closed the door.

As he walked down the corridor to the chapel door, Harry suddenly felt exhausted. He was physically and emotionally drained. His only hope was that his parents weren't angry with him for disappearing like that. He didn't think he had the energy to listen to them lecture him. Pushing the door open, Harry stepped back into the chapel and looked around. The large room was empty except for the solitary figure of a woman with red hair sitting in the back. She was reading a book, but she looked up when he came in. Harry tensed as he met his mother's eyes, but eased instantly when she smiled.

"Ready to go home?"

Harry nodded and started up the aisle towards her. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Lily closed her book and stood up. When Harry stopped beside her, she wrapped her arms around him in a brief hug, kissing him on the cheek. "Take all the time you need."

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it all right if I stay for that class thing?"

"Of course, honey. Do you want to go home and come back, or just stay?"

Shrugging a little, Harry said, "It starts in an hour anyway. I might as well stay."

"OK. I'll be back to pick you up at five. I'll meet you out front."

"OK." Harry watched her walk out to the hall then sat in the pew. He managed to sit still for all of two minutes before he stood back up. He wandered out into the hall himself and peered out at the nearly empty parking lot. There were only three cars left and one of them was a black Porsche with tinted windows. Realizing that he would have to see Draco again (he hadn't seen him since lunch at the pizza place two weeks ago), he groaned.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Draco's voice came from behind him with a sneer, "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't play church any more."

Turning, Harry looked at Draco. There was an impenetrable coldness in his eyes, making him look exactly like his father. Harry's own eyes narrowed coolly as he said, "What? Now I need your permission, or something?"

Draco glared back at him for a minute, then completely caught Harry off guard by asking, "What do you want me to say?"

"What do I-- What?"

Looking out the window over Harry's shoulder for a moment, Draco chewed his bottom lip in a very unMalfoyish way. When he looked back into Harry's face, his eyes, though still guarded, had lost their frigid coldness. "Do you want me to apologize? Admit it was my fault?"

"Draco, I don't--"

"Because it was. I know it was. And if you want to know why I haven't apologized, it's because I haven't been able to come up with anything that would come remotely close to making up for what I did."

Racking his brain, Harry tried to find some base for what Draco was saying.

"I have spent the last two months beating myself up because of what I did. Thinking you might...not get better," he finished softly, looking away again. "It doesn't mean anything, but I'm sorry."

_The car accident? That was his fault?_ Harry wondered. He strained to remember what happened, but could only recall the broken conversation he had been having with Ron and Hermione right before he had woken up. "Well, forget about it. It doesn't matter any more," he said awkwardly.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. The idea that this Draco might not be exactly like the other came to him. He was actually apologizing, and he seemed to genuinely mean it.

Draco took a step towards Harry, coming entirely too close for Harry's comfort.

Harry tried to back up a step, bumping into the door. "What are you doing?" he asked, only slightly more than mildly curious.

Glancing up one side of the hall, then the other, Draco said, "No one's here besides us and Dumbledore, and he's closed in his office." His voice was soft with a hint of impatience.

As Harry was trying to decide if that was some kind of poorly-delivered threat, he became vaguely aware of Draco reaching out and resting light finger tips on his hip. If his mind hadn't been working so hard to figure out the first part of this odd encounter, Harry would have noticed the strange intimacy attached to the gentle touch much sooner. As it was, Draco's fingers rested on him long enough to warm his skin through the fabric of his slacks before Harry's thoughts caught up with the changing situation.

Shoving Draco's hand away, Harry pushed past the other boy so he wasn't pressed up against the door. "What the hell are you doing?"

Draco's cold glare came back. "I thought I was making up with my boyfriend, but I guess I was wrong," he answered with a steely note in his voice.

"Your _what_?!"

"Look, if you're still pissed off at me, just say so," he snapped, his cheeks tinged pink with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

Harry couldn't formulate a reply. He just stared at Draco blankly, his mind trying to process the new information. Boyfriend? He had said _boyfriend_, right? No. No way. Harry must have misheard him....

Shaking his head, Draco threw his hands up in mock defeat, said, "Screw this," and strode down the hall and into the chapel.

When he recovered the ability to move, Harry pushed through the door, stepping out into the light and humidity of the late afternoon. With no where to go, he sank onto the step, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. This was too much. This couldn't be real....

_A prank_, he thought suddenly. Somehow, Malfoy found out Harry had lost his memory and now he was messing with him. That had to be...the dumbest idea in the entire world. If it was a prank, Crabbe and Goyle would have come sauntering out, snickering at the horrified expression on his face.

Harry sat with his head in his hands for fifteen minutes before he looked back up. He felt ill and miserable, and he wished he had his cell phone so he could call for a ride home. As it was, he could either sit outside by himself for an hour and half, or make the thirty-minute walk home. He had no intention of going back in the church.

With a sigh, he stood up, brushed off his pants, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and made his way down to the sidewalk. He had thirty minutes to come up with a good excuse to give his mother for why he hadn't stayed for class--besides the fact that Draco Malfoy had hit on him and called him his boyfriend, because he was _never_ telling _anyone_ about that.

TBC

**~~***~~**

*manic giggling*

I do have to say I am not a fan of Draco/Harry stuff in "cannon" fics, but AU stuff with them is cute. Cannon Harry is just too straight to be gay.... That said, *fangirl squeeeeee!*


	7. In Which Holidays Are Introduced

The now-mandatory story notes! .... No real notes, but I guess I can use this space to thank my reviewers:

Li'l Sis, you rock and I hope you find it interesting. There are a couple fun twists yet to come.... ^_^

Coda, here are lots of updates, much more quickly than I thought you'd get them. I hope you're enjoying the story.

Chibiduo, FINALLY! It's done! YAY!!!!!! I did a little tweaking so hopefully you won't get bored rereading the stuff you've already read. ^_^

Meany, .... *wink*

Axcushate, thanks for the comment. ^_^

Petites, first, wow! for the long review. ^_^ By now you have seen Dumbledore, so I hope you liked him. He was interesting to try and figure out in this setting.

Anyway, on to the story. (And any other review thanks and answers will take place in the bottom of the page notes, so if you review after this post check done there on new chapters. Comments, questions, encouragement, and random flames--should I warrant any--are always welcome. ^_^)

**~~***~~**

"Harry, what on _earth_ are you doing?"

Harry looked up as his mother walked into his room. He was kneeling on the floor by his bed, digging out everything he found stuffed under it. He had already emptied his dresser drawers on the top of the bed and poured the contents of his desk drawers out by the closet door. "Cleaning," he said after a second of thought.

"Well, dinner's just about ready, so wrap it up soon."

"All right." Harry bent over and dragged out the last of the debris from under his bed.

When he had gotten home, Harry had decided that the truth, or something like it, was the best excuse for not having stayed for class. After telling his parents he had had an altercation with Draco, he had run up stairs and begun tearing his room apart.

The walk home had done nothing to calm his nerves; only made him more determined that this boyfriend thing did not make any logical sense. He had had an embarrassing crush on Cho! Guys who had boyfriends didn't have embarrassing crushes on girls! More importantly, Harry had never felt attracted to any guy, least of all Draco, in the entirety of his memory. He loved Ginny.

_The imaginary sister of a friend who has all brothers_, a doubting voice murmured in the back of his mind.

Harry shook the unwelcome though away and redoubled his efforts. If he and Draco had a relationship, there would be some evidence of it somewhere. A note, a gift or card that Draco had signed, a picture...something. As much as the thought of seeing Draco's name on a love letter hidden under his bed turned Harry's stomach, the thought of not knowing for sure if such a thing even existed was worse.

After searching through the pile from under his bed for ten more minutes with no luck, Harry decided to go down for dinner. He would search his closet after Sirius left.

Dinner was long and grueling. Every few minutes, Harry would be invited to add to the conversation, but part of his mind was still up in his room, and the other part was still standing numbly in the chapel hallway. After having Harry stare at him blankly and say, "Huh?" to several comments he made to him, Sirius focused his conversation at James.

When at last the table was cleared, Harry excused himself and jogged back up the stairs. Sliding the desk drawer pile out of the way with his foot, he opened his closet door and started pulling things down from the shelf over the clothes rod. Halfway through his search, he did find a shoe box full of pictures, but few of them had Draco in them and those that did were from soccer games and what looked like end-of-season parties.

When he had been through every box, every bag, and every pocket, Harry sat back on the floor and sighed deeply. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or more concerned that he hadn't found anything. After a moment of sitting, Harry shifted his weight and went to push himself up with his hands when a sharp pain stabbed into his palm. He pulled his hand back and looked at the floor where he had tried to set it. He glared as he noticed the black pearl Eldwood ring.

Picking it up, Harry stood. He turned it over in his hands. "Maybe I should take Mom and Dad up on their offer to have this reset. Waste of a lot of money not to wear it."

He reached out to set it on his dresser, but stopped, the gleaming pearl catching his eye. _It couldn't be...._ Gripping the ring in his fist, he went out to the top of the stairs. "Mom?" he called down.

"Yes?"

"What month is pearl the birthstone for?"

"June," she replied.

Harry's stomach flopped over on itself. Draco's birthday was in June. Or so Ron said when they were talking about summer parties. He could have been wrong. It wasn't likely, but he could have.

"Why do you ask?" she called after a moment.

"N-no reason." Harry retreated to his room and dropped the ring on his desk. He sat on his bed and looked at it. It seemed to be staring back, taunting him.

How was he going to figure out if that ring was Draco's? He couldn't ask anyone. If he had been slow about catching on to the situation, Harry hadn't been slow at realizing it was a secret. Would Ron and Hermione know? No. He had asked Hermione about relationships and she had said he didn't have any. And he was pretty sure Ron wouldn't have kept quiet about something like that if he knew.

His only option was to ask Draco himself, and that wasn't going to happen. The idea of talking to Draco--being in the same room as him--made Harry feel so sick, he knew he would never be able to actually articulate the question if he had wanted to.

Growling in frustration, Harry fell back on his bed and covered his face. _Why can't _this_ be the bad dream?_ he wondered despairingly. _Why can't Hogwarts have been real, and this be the terrible thing I wake up from?_

"Honey?"

Harry moved his arm from over his eyes and looked up at his mother. She was standing in the doorway with a concerned frown. "Is everything all right?" She was eyeing the mess he had made of his room cautiously.

Guilt stabbed into Harry's chest. He would rather be in a place where his parents were dead just so he wouldn't have to deal with a possible relationship with Draco. That was pretty bad. "Everything's fine," he answered.

"Draco's on the phone for you. I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk to him."

A debate sprang inside of him. He could get this over with now, or he could refuse to take the phone and continue to suffer.... Wordlessly, Harry held his hand out for the cordless phone with the air of a person getting something very unpleasant over with as quickly as possible.

"Make sure to bring it back down when you're finished."

"I will." When Lily was gone, Harry took a deep breath, let it out, and fitted the receiver beside his ear. "Yeah?"

There was a slight pause. "Hi."

"Draco, I don't--" "About earlier--" they both started at once. They fell silent.

After a moment, Draco said, "I really am sorry."

"Don't. Whatever you did, I don't care, all right? I just.... The whole...boyfriend thing.... I don't want to-- I mean.... You know what I mean, right?"

Silence. Shortly, his voice cold, Draco said, "Sure. I know what you mean."

"I mean, we're guys. Guys don't...."

"Whatever."

Slowly, Harry ventured, "So, you, uh, want your class ring back, right?"

"Yeah. Father was pretty pissed when I told him I lost it anyway."

Harry's gut clenched. It was Draco's.... This was not happening. "Yeah," he said dully, only because Draco had been quiet for too long and it seemed like he should say something.

"Yeah. I guess just bring it to church Sunday and I'll get it from you then."

"I'm not going to church Sunday."

"Pastor said you were going to start back in deacon training."

Harry didn't say anything.

"You're a prat," Draco sneered.

"Shut up," he shot back.

"Is that why you aren't playing soccer? Because you don't want to see me? Snape told me he got a letter from your doctor clearing you to come back."

"It has nothing to do with you. I just don't feel like playing." Why was he talking about this with Draco Malfoy?

"You're a prat," he repeated. "And a liar. Are you gonna tail Weasley to practice again this week?"

"I might watch one or two," he confessed.

"Come Monday. I'll get my ring back, then Weasel-boy can hold your hand while you walk home crying."

"Piss off."

"Prat," Draco answered smoothly.

Harry shook his head. What kind of relationship did they have, anyway? He was suddenly extremely curious to know how Draco had caused the car accident. He would ask his parents about it later.

"Anyway, I'll see you Monday. I'll meet you by the front door right after practice. While the others are changing." Draco hung up before Harry could answer.

Harry turned the phone off and tossed it onto his pillow. He recalled Dumbledore's comment about probably being better off as the new person he had become.

_I have held many of your confidences over the years._

Did Dumbledore know about Harry and Draco's relationship? No. He couldn't. That was the sort of thing a clergyman would have had to go to the pastor about. Harry would have known that.

Involuntarily imagining the scene of Dumbledore telling Voldemort that Harry was gay, and expressing his concern for his spiritual standing due to said fact, he covered his face again. He wasn't sure if he should laugh at the absurdity of it, or yell out of frustration.

**~~***~~**

"You're quiet," Ron commented as he and Harry walked to school the next morning.

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "Just tired, I guess."

"How'd church go yesterday?"

"Sucked."

"Figured it would. Going back?"

"I don't know." Everything within Harry was telling him not to, but then he thought of Dumbledore. And when thoughts of Dumbledore weakened at sustaining his desire to go, Draco's taunts filled in. He didn't want Draco thinking he couldn't deal with being around him. But at the same time, he wasn't sure he could.

When they got to the school, Harry and Ron took their customary parting of ways and as Harry approached the bench, Snape gave his customary sneer before going back to marking something in the stat book he had propped on his forearm.

"Set out the cones," he ordered, not looking at Harry.

Finishing the tasks that had come to be his responsibility on a fairly regular basis, Harry went back and sat on the bench.

The team was already out on the goal line stretching.

In an effort to avoid looking at Draco, Harry looked across the field to the tennis courts where the girls' team was practicing like usual. He passed the next hour like that before Snape gave a shrill blast of his whistle to signify the end of practice.

Harry watched the team moving up the field towards him. Draco was lagging behind, picking up the cones as he went.

As Ron passed him, Harry stood up and said, "I'll meet you around front when you're done changing."

"All right."

Walking around the bleachers, Harry made his way to the main entrance of the school. He stepped under the awning out of the hot sun and waited. After a minute, he took the ring out of his pocket and turned it over, looking at it. His chest was tight, his stomach tense with nerves. He had never thought he would be giving the break-up talk to Draco Malfoy. Hopefully, Draco would just take his ring, toss a couple insults, then walk away.

Several minutes passed and Harry started to grow impatient before Draco finally came around the side of the building. He was still in his workout clothes and he looked hot and rumpled, and not remotely attractive to Harry's eye.

"Took you long enough."

"I had to finish putting things up."

"Anyway, here." Harry held the ring out to him unceremoniously.

Taking it equally as unceremoniously, not looking Harry in the eye, Draco mumbled, "Thanks." His cheeks were pink with what could have been sun or emotion. Either way, he pushed the ring onto his index finger, then peered at Harry with cold eyes. "No regrets?"

"About giving that back to you? Not really."

"Good. None here either."

"Good."

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and took a couple casual steps backwards. "See you around." Then he turned and walked around the side of the building.

Instinctively, Harry walked to the corner and watched Draco jog behind the bleachers and to the metal locker room door. When Draco disappeared through the door, he let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He ran his hand through his hair then walked towards the bleachers to wait for Ron.

When the others finally started trickling out of the locker room by twos and threes, Harry looked up again. He noticed Draco slip out and head around to the parking lot by himself. Coming out close behind him was Ron, Seamus, and Dean.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hey."

"We were going to head down to the cinema and see what's playing. Wanna come?" Seamus asked as he took his keys out of the side zipper on his sports bag.

"Not today."

"Did you ask your parents about your birthday party yet?"

Actually, Harry was so used to people ignoring his birthday that it hadn't come back into his mind since the conversation at the pizza place. "No. Not yet."

"It's only a week away," Dean reminded him needlessly.

"I'll give you guys a call tonight and let you know what's going on."

"All right. You coming, Ron?"

"Nope. I have stuff to do around the house."

"Suit yourself." Seamus and Dean re-shouldered their bags and headed to the front of the school.

Ron sighed and sat down beside Harry. He took two bottles of water out of his bag and offered one to Harry, who took it wordlessly. "Don't want to come over, do you? Mom's been really out of it, but I know she'd act normal if we had company."

Harry unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "What's wrong with her?" He took a gulp of the cold water gratefully.

"You know," he said gloomily. "Ginny Day."

Harry spit out his mouthful and stared at Ron. "_What_ day?"

Ron looked at him blandly. "You managed to forget Ginny Day?"

"What's Ginny Day?" he asked impatiently as he wiped his mouth.

"The anniversary of Ginny's death. Don't remember her?"

Slowly, Harry said, "A bit, but I didn't know she died." _Why did Hermione say she didn't exist?_ he wondered, swelling with anger.

"Yeah. When she was four. She caught a bad summer cold and it went straight into her lungs. She suffocated in her sleep. I'm really surprised you don't remember."

"Does Hermione know about it?"

"Umm, not really. I mean, we didn't know her when we were that young, did we? And I try not to splash around that I've got a dead sister. It makes Mum feel worse about it."

Harry just stared at him, open-mouthed. Ginny was real, but she was a dead four-year old.

"Geez, I wish I could forget about it like that."

Harry's look of disbelief turned into a scowl at the off-handed comment. Looking away from Ron, he stared past the far soccer goal, not really seeing anything except what he remembered of Ginny. The longer he sat there, the more vividly her face and hair and eyes and smile returned to him. He suddenly ached to be with her. He could hear her voice saying his name as if from a ghost in the back of his memory.

_I never told her I loved her_, he thought. _How could I not do that before I left?_

"Anyway, we should get going."

"You go ahead. I'm gonna hang out here for a bit."

"So, you're not coming over?"

Harry shook his head.

Standing, Ron hoisted his bag and sighed. "All the better for you, I guess. Catch you later."

Harry didn't reply as he watched Ron walk away. He sat by himself, lost in thought, for longer than he could keep track of. He went through a roller coaster of feeling depressed; then convincing himself that since it was a dream, and she wasn't real, it wasn't worth getting upset over; then the pitfall feeling of recalling the strong emotions seeing her face in his memory had brought back; finally ending up depressed again. He went through that painful journey several times before he forced himself out of his thoughts and stood up.

Wending his way home along the now-familiar streets of the neighborhood, Harry was aware of a mounting dread building in him. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to have to talk to anyone. He wished he had gone to the movies with Dean and Seamus. Then he would know nothing of Ginny Day, and he would be all the better off for it.

Turning off the main road, Harry made his way down one side street after another. The isolation of being on his way to somewhere that didn't have people he knew felt comfortable.

When he got to his fourth or fifth intersection, he thought, _Don't go getting lost. How mad would Dad be if you called telling him you didn't know where you were?_

After five more minutes of walking, Harry turned around and started making his way home. It was getting too hot, he was out of water, and the intense emotions that had allowed him to ignore those facts for the past hour were dissipated enough that he finally noticed the discomfort.

It was nearly an hour before Harry found his way back to a street he recognized, then another thirty minutes before he trudged up the walkway to the house, pushed the door opened, dragged himself to the living room, and flopped onto the couch, his shoes still on his feet. Too exhausted to feel anything, Harry closed his eyes and slipped into a dark, empty sleep.

**~~***~~**

Harry was woken with a start by a loud banging sound. He half sat up and looked around blearily, the light from the front windows streaming into his eyes, making him squint.

"No, turn it over the other way. Just like-- No, not like that!"

"Sorry! It's kinda heavy," a voice grunted from the entry way.

Climbing to his feet, Harry wandered out to the hall, rubbing his eyes and pushing his hair out of his face. "What's going on?"

Sirius, who was holding up one side a very heavy-looking dresser, looked over his shoulder at Harry and said, "Your mother decided she wanted a new bedroom set. Could have paid an extra fifty bucks to have them deliver the thing and set it up, but oh, no. James and Sirius can do it."

"Quit talking and keep moving!"

Looking past the dresser, Harry saw his father laboring under the other half of its weight.

"You could help," Sirius said pointedly through gritted teeth.

Still a bit sleepy, Harry took one corner of the dresser and guided it around into the living room so James could get the other end of the dresser through the door and headed up the stairs.

It took the three of them nearly twenty minutes to squeeze the dresser up the stairs and through the bedroom door. When it was set in the middle of the room, James, Sirius, and Harry collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily.

"Spending too much time behind your desk, Jamesie," Sirius said between breaths.

James opened his mouth to comment when Lily yelled from down stairs, "Who didn't take their shoes off?"

All three of them looked at their feet.

"Oops," Harry said when he saw his sneakers. Kicking them off, he rolled off the bed and picked them up. "Sorry, Mum," he called, walking out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He dropped his shoes with the others by the door and padded into the kitchen.

Lily was pushing groceries around in the refrigerator to make room for those that were in the four full bags on the counter. "How was your day?"

Suddenly reminded of his morning, Harry said, "Long."

Standing up, she said, "Can you put the rest away for me? I need to make sure your father puts that dresser in the right place."

"Sure."

Ten minutes later, the dresser placed, the groceries taken care of, Harry, James, Lily, and Sirius met in the living room.

"Phew! What a long day," Lily said, dropping onto the couch.

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered, slumping into the recliner by the window, feeling slightly overwhelmed again now that he was fully awake and could appreciate what his morning had consisted of.

"What did you do this morning?"

_Broke up with my boyfriend, found out my imaginary girlfriend wasn't as imaginary as I thought, got lost and dehydrated, then came home and passed out_, he thought. What he said was, "Nothing too much. Just watched soccer practice and hung around outside."

"With as much time as you spend at the practices, you should ask if you can help manage the team," Lily commented off-handedly.

Harry opened his mouth to make his usual protest, but stopped. Why couldn't he manage the team? He'd be involved in the sport, which would make his dad happy, and he wouldn't have to actually play and make a fool out of himself, which would make him happy. After a moment, he thought of two very good reason why he shouldn't manage the team: Snape and Draco.

Of course, Snape had been all right by his old standards, and Draco had all but accused Harry of leaving soccer in an effort to run away from him, which was an accusation that had to be answered.

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said slowly. "I might talk to Snape about it."

James looked at Harry then at Lily as if he didn't recognize either one of them for a moment, then glared poutily at the TV.

Giggling, Lily wove her arm around her husband's and hugged him. "Sugar, not vinegar," she said softly. "And good timing."

A small smile came to James's lips.

"Eww. I think they're gonna kiss," Sirius said loudly.

Harry laughed a little. _Would still having Ginny be worth losing this?_ he wondered, watching as James batted Sirius in the face with a throw pillow. At the moment, he could believe it wouldn't. "So, do we have any plans for my birthday?" he ventured.

"We didn't make any because you usually make your own," Lily said.

"The guys thought it would be fun to have a party here." He continued quickly, "Nothing too big. Just, you know, something."

"Not too big?" James asked skeptically. "That'd be a first for you."

"I was just thinking a few guys from the team. Hermione, and maybe a couple other people."

"That sounds fine, honey. Just give me a shopping list so I can get together the food for you. Try to keep it under a thousand, though, OK?"

Harry nodded mutely. The idea of being able to plan a huge party and just hand off the shopping list to his mother seemed so strange. He went from being surprised if he got more than three birthday cards to having a party budget he couldn't spend the entirety of if he tried....

**~~***~~**

Later that night, Harry wandered out to the porch where his parents were sitting. They were looking over a set of papers and talking quietly to each other.

"Mum? Dad?"

Lily put the papers down in her lap quickly. "Yes, honey?"

"I wanted to ask you something. About the car accident."

James slid over. "Here, sit."

Harry shook his head and leaned back against the railing. "What happened, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "The accident. Whose car was it? What were we doing?"

"Actually, we don't know," Lily said softly. "You went out with Ron to a graduation party for his brother's friend. And then at three-thirty in the morning, we got a telephone call from the hospital."

"Are you remembering something about it?" James asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "Just curious." After a moment, he asked, "Was there anyone else in the accident? I mean, I don't have a license, so I couldn't have been the one driving."

The expression on Lily's face suggested that Harry was forcing her to relive her worst memories as she said, "There was no one else. Well, they didn't find anyone else. But no, you weren't driving. They could tell...by how you were in the car when they found you."

_So whoever was driving just left me there_, he thought, his insides going cold.

_"And if you want to know why I haven't apologized, it's because I haven't been able to come up with anything that would come remotely close to making up for what I did."_

"The doctors thought it might have been that the driver was drinking, or something," James explained, "and didn't want to run into the police. But that's just a theory. On this one, we know about as much as you do."

"Did you ask Ron about it? He must have known something. He was there."

James sighed. "He said you two got split up at the party. When he tried to find you to go home, you weren't there, so he figured you got a ride with someone else, and left without you."

"He felt so bad about it for so long afterwards," Lily added softly. "He probably still does."

"Whose car was it? The one I was in."

"It belonged to one of the boys at the party. But he'd been passed out all night. Several people verified that he'd dropped off early, before you left."

"But no one saw who I left with?" _We must have been sneaking off somewhere to be alone...._ Harry felt sick.

James shook his head. "Harry, I know how hard it must be, but trust me. Your mum and I have gone over and over the same circles you're putting yourself through right now, and come up with nothing more than what we started off with. Just be grateful you're OK and don't put too much effort into worrying about whose fault it was."

_I know whose fault it was_, Harry thought bitterly. _It was Draco's. Everything that's been happening.... It's all because of Draco. No wonder he was so surprised I accepted his stupid apology._ Harry wished he hadn't given him back the ring. He wished he had thrown it in the trash compactor and given Draco the garbage cube instead.

Lily stood up and set the papers on the chair. She hugged Harry tightly. "Oh, honey."

Harry hugged her back.

It wasn't until much later, when he was lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, that he stopped to wonder exactly what he had been doing at a party where people were drunk, passing out, and stealing and wrecking cars. Was it possible that he was at least a little to blame himself? Suddenly a huge party didn't sound like such a good idea. Something small, where he wasn't expected to perform and act like "himself" would be a lot better....

Harry fell into a fitful sleep, dreading the moment when he would have to make a final decision about the party.

TBC


	8. In Which Snape Has Coffee

I really like this section.... It's been a while since I really sat down and read over this story and I keep finding little things I really like but forgot about. I hope everyone likes it as much as I do. Snape drinking coffee...how cute. :3

**~~***~~**

Snape stared at Harry down his long, hooked nose. He seemed like he was inspecting a potion whose contents he was unsure and untrusting of. When he finally spoke, his voice was dripping with smug amusement. "And why would I want the help of an incompetent idiot?"

Harry stared back evenly. "Because I'm not incompetent, and you know it. Look at the stat book." Sure, he didn't remember any of the knowledge he had had when he had reached those numbers, but Snape didn't know that.

His expression unreadable, Snape contemplated Harry for a minute longer before saying, "You'd be responsible for equipment during practices and games. And you'd be keeping the records. In case of a game postponement or practice cancellation you'd be responsible to inform each player."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll be at every practice, every game, every assembly."

"Yes, sir."

Snape studied him silently for a few more seconds. "For a trial period. If you don't mess up too badly, I'll consider taking you on as full time manager come the fall. And that is all pending you keeping your grades at an acceptable level, especially in my class. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

With a jerky wrist movement, Snape held the stat book out to Harry.

Taking it, Harry grinned. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet," he answered darkly. With that, he walked towards the group of boys who were just finishing their stretches. He blew his whistle and called for their attention.

Harry sat back down on the bench, still grinning. He couldn't wait to tell his dad that Snape had agreed to let him manage the team. The rest of practice went by quickly as he flipped through the book and studied the recording style for the player statistics. As he grew to understand the numbers more, he became even more impressed with the pages in the book with his name on them.

When practice ended, Ron jogged over to the bench. "What'd he say?"

Grinning, Harry held up the book slightly.

Ron grinned back at him. "Wicked."

Harry stood up. "Guess I should start picking stuff up."

Still grinning, Ron fell into the group behind Seamus and Colin and started telling them about Harry's new appointment. Draco, who was heading the march to the locker room, stopped and looked back at Harry for a moment when he heard Ron's profession.

Harry stared back at Draco until the other boy looked away, then started gathering the practice equipment. He felt a slight sense of satisfaction at the interaction. Working quickly, Harry got together all the cones, soccer balls, and jerseys. When they were bagged, he looked at Snape, who was back to reviewing the stat book, his brow drawn in thought, an unpleasantly sneering frown on his face. "Um, Coach?"

"'Professor,' if you must," he said distractedly, "and what is it?"

"Where do you want these?"

"The equipment shed," Snape answered, still not looking at him. He shifted the book to his other hand and dug a set of keys out of his pocket. "It's locked, so take these."

Harry took the keys slowly, then asked, "Where, exactly, is the equipment shed?"

He looked at Harry, his dark eyes unamused. "The same place it's always been, Potter. Behind the bleachers."

"Yes, sir." Harry lugged the bags around the bleachers and spotted a small wooden shack of a building nestled in the shade. He unlocked the door and climbed into the musty, humid interior. It reminded him of Harid's hut. Pushing the comparison out of his mind, he put everything where it looked like it went, then left, locking the door behind him. As he walked by the locker room door, he met Dean and Colin coming out of it.

"Congratulations. Too bad you can't play again," Dean said, "but it'll still be great having you around the team."

"Thanks."

"You never did call about your party. Is it on?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I got preoccupied last night." Harry ran his hand through his hair. He hadn't actually made a decision yet, but now, faced with the question, he couldn't help but feel like didn't want to draw the attention of any kind of party to himself. After a second, he said, "My parents sort of want to do a small family thing. You know, just because."

He looked disappointed, but he nodded. "That's cool."

"Yeah. Maybe save it for some other time."

Dean nodded. "Oh well."

Colin's face fell. "That's too bad. I've never gotten to go to one of your parties before, but I've heard they're amazing."

Not sure what to say, Harry just shrugged a little. "Nothing too special, I'm sure."

Dean scoffed. "Nothing too special.... Don't listen to him."

Walking up to them, Ron close behind him, Seamus asked, "Who aren't we listening to?"

"Harry's trying to be modest about his parties."

"Great. So that's on?"

"Naw. My parents want to have something small, so it's off for this year."

"Oh well. There's always next time."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Maybe next year he would feel better about putting himself in the middle of a crowd of people without having to worry about saying or doing something too strange, but for now, Harry felt very comfortable with the idea of not having to deal with anyone other than his family and close friends.

With a small laugh, Seamus launched into a story about Harry's sixteenth birthday that involved a little too much free time and a lot too much alcohol. While the other four talked and laughed, Harry listened, his gratitude for deciding not to have a full-blown party growing steadily.

Just as Ron was telling Colin how the whole fiasco ended up, they were interrupted by Snape. He appeared around the end of the bleachers, scowling and leering. "Potter, I did not give you those to keep."

"Oh, sorry, sir." Harry gave Snape back the keys he had been fidgeting with.

After Snape left, Dean shook his head. "Since when have you called Snape 'sir?'"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's just a bad habit I picked up," he suggested dryly, thinking back to his days at Hogwarts.

They stood in the shade behind the bleachers for another ten minutes, then each group parted ways: Dean, Seamus, and Colin to the parking lot; Harry and Ron to the walkway that led to the front of the school and towards home.

"Your parents really say they wanted to do a family thing?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Not really," Harry admitted. "I just don't feel like being surrounded by people I don't remember who're talking to me like I should know who they are."

"Don't blame you there. So, do Hermione and I count as family?"

"Of course you do. I'll probably invite Sirius and Remus over, too."

When they reached Harry's house, they stopped by the mailbox. Taking out a stack of letters, Harry asked, "You want to come in for a bit?"

"Sure. I don't have to be home for an hour."

Stepping into the cool entryway, Harry took off his shoes and went to the kitchen. He dropped the mail on the counter and riffled through the refrigerator for a couple sodas. "We have Coke or Sprite."

"Coke."

Just as the two were sitting on the couch, the front door opened. "Harry?"

"In here, Mom."

Lily poked her head around the corner. "Can you do me a favor? I'm having a couple students over for a late study group tonight and I need the parlor cleaned. Just straightened, really. I'd do it, but I want to go over the material we're going to cover before they get here."

"Sure." Harry looked at Ron. "Wanna help?"

"Why not? If I said no and went home, Mum'd put me to work cleaning something there."

The parlor was a small room with several wide windows, small couches, and chairs, and low coffee tables. The wooden floor was a rich brown, and covered in places by gold and green area rugs. It was like stepping into an indoor garden with all the plants that hung from the ceiling and stood in tall pots and on pedestals in the corners.

Harry moved around, clearing the tables while Ron straightened throw pillows.

"Wish my chores were this easy," Ron lamented.

Recalling his days of manual labor at the Dursleys', Harry said, "It _is_ pretty cool." When the room was picked up, Harry led the way back into the kitchen where Lily was sitting at the table, books and papers spread out in front of her. She was scribbling a very long equation full of numbers and symbols across the top of one page. Feeling slightly dejected, he said, "Wish I didn't have to take chemistry this year."

"You always do fine," Ron replied. "Especially at chem."

Harry didn't answer. It had been made very clear to him that he used to get excellent marks in nearly every subject. Thinking back to his pitiful OWLs and his barely passing marks in everything but DADA, he felt that sense of dread come back. The work he had been doing with Remus once a week was making him feel better about Civics, and knowing Hermione would be there to help did bring some relief, but the reality that he was going to be thrown to Snape like meat to the wolves was unsettling.

Sure, Lily had offered to help him whenever he needed it, but she always offered the help with the confident air of a parent who didn't really think her child needed it. It was sort of like how parents always know when to let go of the bike when they're teaching their children to ride: it was an instinct borne of living with and raising a person. There was just one problem. Lily hadn't raised Harry, nor had she lived with him very long, after all technical circumstances were taken into consideration; and she didn't seem quite aware of the fact that she was pointing him towards a cliff and letting go before the natural panic reaction of simply freezing from fear and nerves had been overridden by experience in braking and steering.

After a moment of watching his mother, Harry started to leave the room, but Lily stopped him.

"Honey, if you get me your shopping list tonight, I'll stop by the store on my way home tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh yeah. About that, is it all right if I just have something small? You know, just us, and Ron and Hermione, and maybe Remus and Sirius?"

"Sure. You didn't want to invite any of your friends from church? Augusta called me last night and asked if I would let you know Neville's coming back from his uncle's Thursday."

From behind him, Harry heard Ron snort, then cover it with a fake cough. Lily didn't seem to notice.

"Umm, I'd really rather it just be us," Harry said slowly.

Lily nodded. "All right. I'm sure she'll call a couple more times, so I'll let her know the guest list is already full."

"Thanks." Thinking of the nature of his parties, Harry wondered what a Neville who was so keen to go to them that he had his grandmother calling ahead would be like.

Once they were through the door, up the stairs, and safely in Harry's bedroom, Ron scoffed unsympathetically, "Poor Neville."

"Why poor Neville?"

"You don't remember this one either? Lucky."

Harry scowled.

"His gran's always pushing him at you." He adopted a high, weathered voice: "'Oh, Neville, you should spend more time with that nice Potter boy.' 'What? Harry's having a party? I know my Neville would just love to go. He and Harry do get on so well.' She's a nightmare." Ron snorted.

"Does he go to school with us?"

"Naw. He's off in some namby prep school. Smeltings, or something like that."

_Poor Neville_, Harry thought sincerely. It didn't sound like he was much better off than he had been in the dream.

Harry and Ron spent the rest of the early afternoon writing out a food list for the party. When Ron had to leave, Harry followed him down the stairs, said bye at the door, and took his shopping list into the kitchen.

"Here. I think that's about everything."

Lily looked up and took the list. She read over it quickly. "All right, sweetie. I'll pick these things up tomorrow. If you think of anything else, let me know before I leave in the morning."

"I will."

Walking into the living room, Harry plopped onto the couch and turned the TV on. He passed the rest of the afternoon by watching clips from the sports channel, impatiently waiting for James to get home so he could tell him about being made manager of the soccer team.

The hours passed slowly, and when the front door finally opened and James made his customary call of arrival, Harry jumped up and got out into the hall just as his father was finishing toeing off his dress shoes and loosening his tie.

"Hey Harry. How was your day?"

"Really good, actually. I talked to Snape about that managing thing."

James shifted his briefcase and set it on the bottom step of the stairs. "Yeah? How'd that go?" he asked distractedly.

"Good. He's letting me do it on a temporary basis, and if I do all right he'll keep my on when the game season starts."

James grinned. "That's great. I'm really proud of you for sticking with it."

Grinning back, Harry followed James into the kitchen.

"Hon, I'm having a someone over for dinner. Hope you'll-- What's all this?" he asked, his face falling when he saw the mess all over the table.

Lily looked up at him. "I'm having a study group over tonight."

"Can't you change it to tomorrow?"

"The midterms are tomorrow, so changing it would sort of defeat the whole point, wouldn't it? Can't you change your dinner appointment?"

"It's Ludo Bagman," he said with a slight scowl. "I can't very well call and cancel."

"Well, take him out to eat."

"Or you could move your study group to the campus library," James suggested.

Lily frowned at him in a way that clearly said that it was not happening. "Sweetheart," she said with a little too much patience, "this is my job. I think it should take a little more precedence over a dinner party."

"This my promotion," James replied, his voice overly sweet. "I think that should take priority over something that can be done elsewhere."

"Just take him out to a nice restaurant."

"He always goes out to nice restaurants. I'm sure he'd like a quiet dinner where he doesn't have to make conversations with every other department head who happens into the dining room."

"I have to schedule to use the library, and I haven't booked time, so we can't go there," Lily explained.

"Isn't there another member of the group whose house you can go to?"

Her green eyes lighting with annoyance, Lily replied, "Yes, actually, there is. I'm sure Severus wouldn't mind hosting the group tonight."

_Oh no_, Harry thought, taking half a step back. He didn't want to be in the way when that comment blew up.

"What's Snivelly doing in a college study group?"

"He helps the department in the summer."

James scowled. "Fine. Go to Snape's house for tea. I'll see you when you get home."

Lily closed her book and stood up. Gathering her papers, she said, "Fine. I will. Enjoy your dinner party. Hope you're up for cooking, because I haven't started anything yet." With that, she walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"Women," James muttered, going to the refrigerator and opening the door. He peered in for several minutes, sighed, and closed it. He looked at Harry. "Don't know how to cook anything beside macaroni and cheese, do you?"

"I can make spaghetti. Sort of. It's been a while since I did it, though."

James sighed again and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the counter. "Maybe I'll just take him out. That restaurant across from the garage was all right."

Harry sat at the table. "What kind of promotion are you trying to get?"

"A position for a new interior secretary for the Athletic Regulations Office opened last week."

"Oh. Isn't that what you do now?"

"It's a little different. Less hands-on. And this job has more pay, better benefits, and a few more underlings to help with the running around and phone calls," James explained. "It will free my in-office schedule up a bit so I have more time to be out with the team. And home with you and your mum," he added.

Looking around the house, Harry couldn't help but think that they didn't really need more pay. Everything seemed pretty set the way it was. And as for benefits, the Potters hardly seemed set back by Harry's month-long hospitalization, excessive CT scans, and his specialist appointments with Dr. Crawford. The more time would be nice, but Harry had a feeling James was talking more about his team than his family.

Changing the subject slightly, Harry asked, "Are you going to let Mum know she can stay here?"

"I should. Of course, she'll make me tell her she was right." Pushing away from the counter, James said, "The key to a successful relationship is always being willing to be wrong. Because you will be wrong. Frequently. And the sooner you accept that, the smoother it will go." Walking across the kitchen, he opened the door and called in a mild voice, "Sweetheart?"

Harry smiled a little as he watched his father leave the kitchen. His smile turned to a frown when he realized that this change in plans probably meant that Snape was going to be coming over to their house.... Just as the realization fully sunk in, Lily came back into the kitchen looking much less annoyed.

"Are you staying here, or going out with your father?"

Harry thought for a moment. He would really rather go out to dinner with James and Mr. Bagman, but he had the feeling that a kid trailing along wouldn't help James get the promotion. "I'll just hang out here. I still have something to go over before Remus comes Wednesday."

"Severus will be over tonight. Maybe you could talk to him about class."

"Maybe." Harry was quiet while Lily laid her papers back out. "Mum?"

"Yes, honey?" she asked, not looking away from her half-completely equation.

"Are my teachers going to know about the accident?"

"I'm sure they already know about it."

"No. About the effects of it. I mean, do I have to tell Snape...you know, anything?"

Looking at him with disappointment, Lily said, "I really wish you wouldn't hold your father's grudges."

Not sure how to explain that it wasn't James's feelings, but feelings stemming from years of mental abuse from the man that made him hesitate at sharing his vulnerability, Harry said quietly, "It's not just Snape. I don't want what happened to be common knowledge around school, that's all."

"There's a thing called teacher-student confidentiality."

_Yeah. And Snape's never heard of it_, he thought bitterly.

"Besides, how can you expect them to be understanding and helpful of difficulties you have if they don't know you're having them? This is your last year of school, Harry, and you can't afford to let it slip. I know you've been through a lot. I don't want you to feel overwhelmed, but time doesn't stop, and we're talking about the rest of your life."

Harry scowled at her darkly. "Way to not pressure me, Mom." At least Hermione knew when to stop nagging and be sympathetic....

Lily scowled back at him. "I'm not pressuring you. I'm trying to make you understand how serious this is."

Sighing, he said, "All right. I understand. Has Dad left yet?"

"No. He's getting changed."

Leaving the kitchen, Harry climbed the stairs and walked down to the farthest room. The door was half-opened. Pushing it the rest of the way, he went in and sat on the bed. "Dad?"

James looked out of the bathroom, his face partially slathered with shaving cream. "Yeah?"

"You know how you said it was fine if I didn't want to play soccer, or go to church?"

He ducked back into the bathroom and called, "Yeah."

"What if I turn out to be really bad at school? I mean, what if I can't remember anything?"

Chuckling a little, James said, "What has your mother been scaring you with now? Whatever it is, don't mind it too much. She's wound up about the study group."

Harry frowned. "I'm serious though. What if I fail? What if I start class and by Christmas I'm falling flat on my face?"

Clean shaven, James came out of the bathroom and walked to his closet. He flipped casually through his tie rack. "Well, I hope it doesn't get that far before you ask your mother or I for help."

"Dad, I was rubbish in school. The only class I was passing very well was...." He tried to think of a way to describe Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Was a class I had a very good reason for wanting to pass," he finished lamely.

"Why did you want to pass it so badly?"

"It sort of went along the lines of what I wanted to do for work, I guess."

"Well, find ways to apply your other classes to whatever you want to do for work."

This comment halted Harry's thought process. What did he want to do? He had wanted to be an Aurora until Voldemort returned and he saw the way the ministry really worked. After that, he had just wanted to survive to come of age. Slowly, he asked, "What did I used to want to do?"

James stopped in the middle of tying his tie. "Well, you never really talked about a career outside of soccer." He smiled a little. "You were pretty set in the idea that you were going to go on to play in university, get drafted by a profession team somewhere in your first year, then leave school to build up a career as an internationally famous athlete. As far as incentive to keep your grades up...well, your mum told you if any of them fell below Exceeds Expectations, you wouldn't be allowed to play sports." After a moment, he asked quietly, "What did you want to do in your dream?"

How could he describe to his father what an Aurora was without sounding insane, but still get the meaning across? "Sort of like a police man, only for really difficult cases. More like a detective, I guess. Or a bounty hunter, only not as stupid sounding as all that. Something along those lines."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"And you went to a school with classes on that stuff?"

"Sort of."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you." James went back to his tie. "I guess just work your hardest, keep your marks up, and make your choice when the time comes. You don't have to plan out your entire life right now."

Harry nodded.

"Who knows. Maybe with your managing this year you'll decide to get into the desk work side of athletics."

"Maybe." He paused. "Why did you get into the desk work side? I thought you loved playing."

James smiled a slightly pained smile and he looked like he wanted to make the same comment Ron had earlier about the fact that Harry was lucky he had forgotten some things. Instead, he said, "Knee injury."

"Oh."

Grinning, James walked over to the bed and messed up Harry's hair. "Hey, don't think about these things too heavily just yet. You still have a few weeks of summer. Worry about school when school get here. For now, have fun."

"All right."

"Speaking of fun, what do you have lined up for your party?"

"Oh, I decided on a small family thing. You know, us, Ron and Hermione. And I was going to call Remus and Sirius."

James nodded a little. "That sounds good. We could do a barbecue and make Sirius cook."

"That'd be cool."

James messed his hair up again and said, "Well, I gotta get going."

"Bye." Harry sat by himself for several minutes before he got up and went downstairs. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Lily in the middle of making several sandwiches.

"If you want a sandwich and chips, I'll make it. If not, you're on your own for dinner tonight."

"A sandwich sounds good." Harry poured himself a glass of milk and sat at the table. After a moment, Lily set a plate in front of him. "Thanks." Harry ate slowly. When he finished, he put his plate in the sink and went up stairs. He was sure he could find enough to occupy himself until the study group--and Snape--came and left.

**~~***~~**

Peering at the clock, Harry scowled slightly. It was nearly ten o' clock and the study group hadn't left, nor had James returned, both circumstances which left Harry in his room if he wanted to avoid an awkward situation. He was dying of thirst, but he didn't want to risk running into Snape just to get a drink.

Harry sighed and walked out into the hallway. Listening down the stairs, he heard one girl saying, "I think I figured out number thirty-two. It's an ionic variation of the hydrogen atom, right?"

Harry went back into his room. He dropped listlessly unto his bed and started flipping through his civics book. He stopped to skim some of the notes he had taken in the margins last week. When he read the rest of the way to the end of the chapter, he heard the front door open. He put the book down and listened for James's greeting. What he heard instead was a series of "goodbyes" and "see you laters."

Marking his book, Harry got up and set it on his desk. He waited for the last of the noise to die off and for the door to close, then he went downstairs. He walked down the hall and opened the kitchen door, stopping short when he saw his mother sitting at the table with Snape, having coffee.

"Hi, honey. I thought you were sleeping."

"I just came down for a drink," he explained, moving to take a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water as quickly as he could, not meeting Snape's eye.

"We were just talking about your class this year, and Severus has agreed to give you extra study sessions once a week after class." She sounded as though she thought it was a real treat she has secured for him and smiled lovingly.

Unable to help himself, Harry looked at Snape in disbelief.

The man stared back at him evenly. His customary glare in place, his hair down in a veiling curtain, and his sweats replaced by black jeans and long-sleeved shirt, Snape was much more the menacing figure from the dream than he was on the soccer field.

"Oh," Harry said stupidly after a moment. He was strongly reminded of Occlumency, and though he knew Snape couldn't pry into his mind, he wouldn't put it passed him to try and poison him with some lethal chemical compound.

"You can say thank you," Lily prompted tartly.

"Thanks," he mumbled, walking towards the door.

"Harry."

"It's fine," Snape said smoothly, the deep tones of his voice resonating through the deathly still room. He sounded almost understanding and--dare Harry think it--kind. The man smiled tensely at Lily in an obviously ill-practiced expression.

Lily returned the smile apologetically.

Unable to bare the thoughts that were creeping into his mind at seeing Snape smiling at his mother, Harry left the room. As he pushed through the door, he heard Lily say, "Sorry. He's still not quite himself." Feeling frustrated and angry, he marched up the stairs. Before he walked into his room, however, the front door opened again, and James's voice called into the house, "Hello?"

Less than a minute later, the door opened again, then closed, and Lily's voice echoed accusingly, "You don't have to be so rude to my guest!"

"When I come home at ten-thirty and find my wife having coffee with another man, I have every right to ask him what he's doing in my house!"

"It's _Severus_!" she yelled with exasperation. "What do you _think_ we'd be doing?"

"I don't know. What _were_ you doing?"

"I'm going to bed!"

Harry ducked into his room as he heard her angry footsteps coming up the stairs. When she had passed his room and closed her door, he left his room and went down to the kitchen. "Hey, Dad."

Looking tired with his hair messier than usual and his tie loosened, James peered at Harry through half-lidded eyes. He was leaning on the counter again, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hi, Harry. What are you doing up still?"

"I was going over school work. How was dinner?"

"It went all right." He sounded disgruntled.

"That's good then?"

James shrugged. "Turns out Bagman filled the position yesterday. So I just spent a ton of money to take him out to dinner for no reason."

"Sorry."

Shrugging, he said, "No big deal. What's another couple thousand a year, anyway?"

"Did he say who got it?"

"Some young kid straight out of university. Wood, or something like that."

_Wonder if it's Oliver_, Harry thought. It wouldn't have surprised him.

Dumping out the rest of his coffee, James set his cup in the sink and said, "Well, best get to bed. I have work first thing, and you have your first day of managing responsibilities tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

The two padded sleepily towards the stairs, turning lights out as they went. James locked the front door and followed Harry up the stairs. "Night," he said when they got to Harry's doorway.

"Night." Going into his room, Harry closed his door and changed for bed. He wasn't looking forward to extra classes with Snape for chemistry any more than he had looked forward to them for Occlumency, but he could see no way around it. Not unless he suddenly became very good at the subject, and that wasn't going to happen.

_Oh well. Maybe Hermione will be in that class. Then I'll have her to help me_, he mused. _Or to copy from just long enough to convince Mom I don't need the extra sessions._

TBC


	9. In Which There is a Fight

And now we come to my favorite scene in the entire story! *grand music booms through the room* You may all think it must be brilliant, gleaming with literary genius.... I'm afraid you would be wrong. It's actually a rather simple account of poor Harry's birthday party, but I have yet to be able to read over it without giggling uncontrollably.

**~~***~~**

Tuesday afternoon, Harry and James were at Sirius's garage, their coveralls on, oil stained rags in their back pockets. Harry was just finishing putting the new tires on the Mustang.

"So, kid, is this swanky party of yours invite only, or can I bring a girlfriend?" Sirius was sorting through the tools on one of his work benches.

"When did you get a girlfriend?" Harry asked.

"Last weekend. I met her at a bar." Sirius looked at Harry then amended, "Not that I _go_ to bars."

"You don't have to be a good role model," Harry answered distractedly. "Mom's not here." He tightened the bolt on the hubcap farther, then stood up straight, stretching his back. "And yeah, a girlfriend is fine."

"Do you know her name?" James asked with a wicked grin.

"Of course I do. Her name is Amy--"

"And she's a stripper who's only doing it to put herself through medical school, right?"

Sirius glared at him. "No," he said, sounding deeply offended. "She's a waitress."

"At a strip bar," James scoffed.

"Honestly, you have no tact. I believe they call them gentleman's clubs nowadays," Sirius answered self-righteously.

Shaking his head, Harry walked around the other side of the car and checked the air pressure on the front tire without comment.

"She really is a nice girl."

"How old is she?"

"Donno. Gotta be over twenty-one if she was working at a bar, doesn't she?"

"Only if she was drinking on break. She could be eighteen." Despite his questioning, James seemed to find the young girlfriend more of an amusement that an offense.

Sirius shrugged. "Still legal."

"You need a wife."

"Naw. You've got enough of one for both of us. Hey, how's that back tire looking?"

"I'm getting to it," Harry said moodily. "I'd be done if you were helping me instead of standing around, talking about girls. And ones that are too young for you, at that."

"You'll understand when you're older."

Harry rolled his eyes and went to the back tire. "Just, if you're going to bring her to the party, don't embarrass me, OK?"

"OK."

Tuning out the rest of James and Sirius's conversation, Harry finished his work on the tires and recoiled the air hose onto its hook on the wall. He began to wonder exactly how much younger than Remus Tonks was, and whether or not they knew each other. Somehow the idea of Remus with a younger woman wasn't as odd as Sirius, but that was probably because he was respectful and kind. Sirius just sounded like a perverted, old man who hung around schools to peep in on cheer leading practices. Not that Sirius looked that part. Anyone who didn't know him might think he was still in his twenties.

Harry spent the next few minutes cleaning the bay while Sirius and James continued to talk. When he had the floor swept and the lift raised, he said, "About ready to go?"

Looking around with mild confusion at the organized state of the space, James said, "Sure. You're finished already?"

Harry didn't answer.

Surveying the scene calmly, Sirius nodded a little and said, "Nice job," as though Harry had cleaned the garage upon his instructions.

Shaking his head, Harry stripped off his coveralls and hung them by the door.

"Maybe I should start paying you," Sirius mused thoughtfully. "Have you come around the end of the day for a couple hours and clean up. It would save me a lot of time and frankly, by the time I'm done with my cars, I don't feel like sweeping."

"That'd be cool," Harry said slowly. He hardly needed the extra money, but it would be more of a chance to get out of the house and he would be able to save up for his car faster--he had no intention of driving his grandfather Mustang around all the time. (Harry _did_ get the distinct impression from conversations that his parents planned to buy one for him when the time came, but he wanted to be prepared.) He looked at James. "Is that all right?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't be, as long as you're keeping up with your other responsibilities."

Sirius grinned. "Great. Just drop in around seven in the evenings. We'll build you a good work ethic."

"_My_ work ethic is fine," he retorted.

When James was ready, they said goodbye to Sirius and left the garage. James tossed Harry the car keys and climbed into the passenger seat.

Harry started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, his mind preoccupied with thoughts from practice earlier that day. It had been his first day in full manager mode, and he was sure it was going to turn into more of an arduous task than a fun extracurricular pastime. The entire time he was there, Snape kept casting him snide, superior smirks that told Harry very clearly that Lily had confided everything about his condition to the man.

On top of that, Draco seemed to be in a particularly nasty mood. He went out of his way to get into Harry's, and when Nott "accidentally" put his gear right where Harry would trip over it, Draco seemed to be conveniently watching when it happened. Harry didn't care very much if Draco was going throw a fit about their break up. He could do what he wanted. What annoyed Harry was that he could barely retaliate without Snape bearing down on him. He almost thought it would be worth it to punch Draco in the face and get thrown out of the team. It would satisfy both of his longings very nicely; however, there were his parents to consider. And that made doing anything other than taking Snape and Draco's abuse with nothing more than a silent glare nearly impossible.

When they got home, Harry gave the keys back to James, who congratulated him on a near-perfect drive home, and went into the house. Dropping heavily onto the couch, Harry propped his feet on the coffee table and turned the TV on. He sat like that until Lily called him to the dining room for dinner. After a quiet meal--during which his parents did more scowling at each other than talking--he mumbled a good night, and went to his room.

Yawning, Harry changed and climbed into bed. Between the tense mood at home (Lily was still refusing to apologize for having a late coffee with Severus), and soccer, it had been a very long day. If not physically, Harry was emotionally exhausted enough to sleep for days without waking. With the bliss of finding his parents were alive now fully worn off, he was starting to think life without the necessity to placate anyone besides Mrs. Weasley took a little more effort than he felt like putting in.

**~~***~~**

A sigh. "No. Think about the other one. We were just talking about it."

"Parliament?" Harry guessed randomly, completely sure he didn't know the correct answer.

Remus peered at him. "You didn't do the practice work I assigned," he accused flatly.

Normally, Harry would have tried to think of a good excuse for not having done it. However, he was still tired after a long, restless night, so what he ended up saying was, "I was busy and didn't get to it."

"Harry."

"What?"

After studying him for a moment, Remus closed the book and folded his hands on top of it. "What's bothering you?"

_Besides Mom, Dad, Snape, Malfoy, and the fact that I have to play host for a party tomorrow that I'm only having because if I didn't people would think there was something wrong with me?_ he thought sarcastically. _Oh, I'd say, about, nothing._ "I just didn't sleep much last night."

Changing his tone, he asked, "How's managing the soccer team going?"

"All right."

"Your father can't lie to me convincingly either. Tell me what's going on."

Harry looked at the concern in Remus's amber eyes and sighed. "Snape keeps giving me a hard time."

Remus smiled a little. "You mean, more of one than he usually does?"

Bitterly, he sneered, "Mom thought he needed to know about my memory loss. I haven't been able to be within speaking distance of him for the past two days without him making some comment, or just smirking at me like I'm an idiot who can't understand anything." Building steam, Harry leaned forward in his seat and demanded, " I've been keeping the stat book for two days, right?"

Remus nodded.

"Well, I shouldn't know everything about it yet, should I? After only two days? But when I asked Snape about one of the shorthand meanings, he gave me this stupid, fake, sympathetic sigh and said, 'But you learned that _after_ your accident. There's no reason for you not to know _that_ one.'"

Remus frowned. "Have you talked to your parents?"

"I don't need them running off to defend me," Harry snapped defiantly.

Remus thought for a second then said, "Have you talked to Professor Snape about how he's been acting?"

"What's the point? He knows how he's acting. He's doing it on purpose!"

"Your parents would want to know about this."

"Yeah. Then Mum can have coffee with him again, and Dad can go and threaten him, and we'll all go back to our happy lives."

Narrowing his eyes at Harry's sarcasm, Remus replied, "You sound like your father when he's been drinking too much."

Harry scowled at him. "I haven't been drinking anything."

"I wasn't suggesting you were."

Harry glared out the window.

Sighing, Remus closed his book and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe tonight is a bad time for this. You should have some dinner, get some sleep, and we'll try again later. How's Friday sound?"

"Yeah, all right," he mumbled, still not looking at Remus.

Just as Remus was standing up, Lily walked into the room. Seeing him gathering his things, she asked, "Done already? That was quick. See?" she said, rubbing Harry's shoulders. "I told you you'd catch on quickly."

Harry's glare darkened as he waited for Remus to correct her, then for the subsequent lecture.

"Actually, I thought moving the session to Friday would be good. We're both a little on the tired side."

Looking concerned, Lily asked, "Do you need a ride home?"

"No, I'm fine to drive. Thank you, though. I'll see you Friday, Harry."

"Bye."

"Oh, honey, did you tell Remus about your party?"

"Naw. Forgot." His mood lightening a little, Harry looked up. "I'm having my birthday party this Saturday. You can come if you like."

"It's just going to be a small barbecue," Lily explained.

Remus smiled. "I'd love to come. Thank you."

Lily followed Remus out of the kitchen and walked to the door with him. After they were gone, Harry scooped his books into his school bag. Lily returned a moment later.

"Augusta called again this morning and I told her your invitation list was full."

"Thanks." Not looking at her, he put away his pen and zipped the bag.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"Just tired."

"Maybe you shouldn't go to the garage tonight."

Harry stood up. "It's fine. I'll only be a couple hours anyway." He was actually looking forward to spending some time by himself in the garage. Cleaning wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but it seemed better than having to make conversation when he wasn't in the mood.

"Only if you're sure."

"I am."

"Do you want a ride down?"

"I'll walk. It's not too hot."

Lily looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just nodded a little and went into the parlor.

Gratefully, Harry took his school bag and went upstairs. Once it was put away, he went back downstairs and put his shoes on. "Be back around ten," he called down the hall.

"OK, honey. If you want a ride home, call."

"I will."

"I love you."

"Love you, too," he called back carelessly before opening the door and stepping out into the evening heat.

Harry sighed deeply. He was starting to get annoyed at feeling so annoyed all the time lately. There had to be something he could do that would--

Harry's thoughts halted as he looked up one of the wide lawns he was passing. The house that sat at the top of a slight slopes was as broad as his own with the same style porch on the front. Standing on the porch was a dark-haired, miserable looking boy. Startled slightly at the differences he saw in the round face, he took several second to recognize Neville Longbottom. He was leaning on the railing, his oddly clouded eyes following Harry's progression up the street.

Once he realized who the boy was, Harry lifted his hand in a half wave, but dropped it when Neville turned and retreated inside without returning the gesture. _Weird_, he thought. _Mom didn't mention the Longbottoms lived so close._

Feeling curious about who Neville was outside of his dream, Harry decided to make a point to see him soon, then continued on his way. As he walked, his mind strayed to thoughts of the DA, and how this Neville hadn't looked very much like the one he'd left behind when he woke.

**~~***~~**

"Happy birthday!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around Harry's neck in a tight hug. She was holding a large package wrapped in blue paper.

Harry hugged her back for a moment, then stepped out of the way to let her in so he could close the door. "Everyone else is out back, if you want to go out."

"See you out there in a few minutes?"

"Yeah. I was just getting the hamburger buns."

When Hermione had gone through the parlor and disappeared through the side door, Harry went back to the kitchen and sifted through the bags on the counter. They were full of extra buns, sodas, ice, chips, paper plates, and plastic forks. When he found what he needed, he pushed the rest of the bags back onto the counter and headed towards the side door.

The backyard was littered sparsely with people. Ron was talking to Hermione by the drink table. Remus and Lily were watching Sirius play his spatulas on the cooking hamburger patties like they were heads on a drum set--he was wearing a long apron that read HOT BUNS, with a lithographed picture of a cheeseburger and looking completely ridiculous.

Standing close by was Sirius's shockingly blond, vapidly smiling girlfriend. (Harry had only spoken to her for a moment, but he was positive Sirius was right about her not having anything to do with medical school.) On the other side of the lawn, trying to set up a huge umbrella in the middle of the picnic table, were James and Peter, who had shown up with Sirius and Amy-the-Waitress quite unexpectedly. Harry wished he had said it was invitation only....

Harry brought the buns to the table where the rest of the salads, platters, and drinks were set out, then walked over to join Ron and Hermione. "Having fun yet?" he asked glumly.

"Yeah. It's real nice." Ron didn't sound too much like he meant it.

Hermione shot him a withering look, then said, "I, for one, think a nice, quiet evening is the perfect way to celebrate."

"Thanks, guys." Harry replied dryly.

The afternoon passed slowly as the party happened around Harry. It felt like people were interacting with him because they had to more than because they wanted to, but that was fine with him since everyone else seemed to be having a good time.

After several not-so-subtle hints, Ron realized that Harry wasn't going to change him mind and call Seamus, and grudgingly started to enjoy himself at a doubles game of Snakes with Hermione, Lily, and James.

Peter had stationed himself at the picnic table almost as soon as the umbrella was pitched and didn't seem to want to move. He made conversation with anyone close enough to talk to, but lawn darts seemed to take too much effort, and he only watched while James and Sirius took turns pretending they were going to stake each other. In their distraction they both lost spectacularly to Remus, who seemed to have a knack for party games.

The most entertaining thing about the evening for Harry was watching his mother trying to put up with Amy. No matter what Lily did Amy was close by, offering to help. When Lily finally expressed her ability to tend the food table _alone_ firmly enough, the poor girl wandered over to Sirius's side. This added another dimension to the lawn darts game as she giggled distractingly every time Sirius got a point. James was friendly enough towards Amy, which only seemed to fuel Lily's annoyance with them both. Remus, ending the day with a no-loss record at darts, bowling _and_ Snakes, seemed to be the only one Lily was not seething at as she poured out drinks to go with the main course. It occurred to Harry that he should have asked his mother's permission before telling Sirius he could bring Amy to the party.

The evening progressed and the cake (shaped and frosted like a soccer field) was cut, the presents (mostly gift certificates to athletic stores) were opened, and the thank yous (given dutifully) were handed out. When at last the food was gone and the sky had turned to a fiery red with the sunset, Sirius was the first to excuse himself.

"I told Amy I would drop her off at work and she has to be there at nine," he explained. "I'll stop to pick up Peter in an hour or so."

"Bye," Harry said.

"Bye, Harry! Happy birthday, again!" Amy said, smiling and waving at him.

Harry forced a smile. Looking around, he noticed Ron and Hermione sitting together on the other side of the yard. Their heads were bent together and they looked like they wouldn't want to be disturbed.

Lily was having Peter's help carrying things back into the house and James was dismantling the umbrella.

Surveying the pathetic ruin of the end of his party, Harry sighed. He could say, at least, no one had gotten drunk or stolen a car, if he couldn't say much else positive about the day.

**~~***~~**

Harry suppressed another sigh and rested his elbows on his knees. It was Sunday and he had been sitting in the stuffy clergy meeting room in the back hall of the chapel for nearly half an hour. There were five other boys--including Draco--sitting around him, and most of them looked about as happy as he felt. At the head of the class, Dumbledore was instructing them in some deaconly act which Harry had missed the introduction to in the several minutes he had spent staring out the window. Just as his mind was starting to drift so far out of the classroom that he wasn't even aware of the tones of Dumbledore's voice, the door opened, drawing his attention away from the tree he was watching.

Walking tentatively into the room, a thick book gripped in his pudgy hands, was Neville. He was wearing a suit that he looked very uncomfortable in, and his round face was red, small beads of summer sweat standing out on his forehead. His tie was pushed so close to his throat, it must have been choking him.

"Good afternoon, Neville," Dumbledore said warmly, smiling.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Well, come in. Take a seat."

Even as Neville performed the act, Harry, too, scanned the room and found that the only empty chair was directly in front of his own. He noticed the hesitation that flitted across the other boy's face as Neville realized the fact as well.

After examining the room once more with deep trepidation, and finding no other seats appearing in another place to suit him, Neville walked slowly towards the chair in front of Harry like a condemned man to the gallows. He stared at the floor, not meeting Harry's eyes, then sat heavily.

From two seats to his left, Draco sniggered. A couple other boys did as well, but Dumbledore seemed unaware and continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

Over the next several minutes, Neville kept peeking back at Harry over his shoulder, as though checking to either make sure he was still there, or hoping he might not be. When he met Harry's eye directly during his third or fourth covert check, Neville faced forward quickly, his shoulders tensing.

Perplexed at the odd behavior, Harry mused over the situation for several minutes. There had to be something wrong if he was acting so strangely.... A thought occurred to him.

_God_, he thought despairingly, dropping his head into his hands. _I hope I'm not dating him, too._

"Harry?"

Harry looked up with a mild start, his expression one of pure misery. All eyes were upon him and he had no idea why. "Uh, yes?" he asked stupidly.

"Can you answer my question?" Dumbledore asked with great patience.

Harry glanced around the room and found the snide smirk Draco should have been giving him was disturbingly absent. Instead, there was a look of superiority that exceeded any Harry had yet received from him. "Sorry, but I don't think I heard it."

"Why is it that we, as a perish, following the organization of having deacons, even though it is not a wide practice among other Baptist sects?"

"I don't know, sir." Harry's face reddened at the stares from the other boys and he suddenly felt like he was in front of Snape rather than Dumbledore.

"He just said it, Potter," one of the others remarked.

"Thank you, Stebbins, for volunteering to answer the question."

The boy who had spoken looked slightly abashed before saying, "Because that's how the church was organized in the Bible."

"Thank you." Giving Harry a brief, meaningful look, Dumbledore pressed on with the lesson.

His embarrassment forgotten, Harry went back to musing to himself upon the nature of his relationship with this Neville. After several more minutes, he gave himself over to the idea that he would just have to wait until class was over and talk to him. He would much rather know than dread in ignorance.

When the closing prayer had been offered and Dumbledore dismissed the boys, there was a short scurry of gathering books and leaving the room. When they were the only two in the room besides Dumbledore, Harry stood and went to speak to Neville, but was interrupted.

"Harry, may I have a moment of your time?"

With a short glance at Neville, who was fighting the zipper on his book tote frantically, he said, "All right." Harry followed the man to the door, where he stopped briefly.

"Neville, would you mind putting the chairs in the storage closet?"

He looked as though Dumbledore might have passed him a death sentense. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore continued to leave the room, beckoning Harry after him. As they walked down the hall, he began to speak in a low voice. "What did you think of class?"

Giving a half shrug, he replied, "It was good."

Dumbledore nodded with a pleased smile. "As you become familiar with the material again, you'll find more enjoyment in it. As it is, I would like to tell you how glad I was to see you here tonight. I confess, I had my doubts about whether you would come."

Harry shrugged again, still not sure how he felt about being there, and the two continued to walk down the hall. They turned first one corner in silence, and then another, until they had walked the loop of hallway that circled the main chapel area of the building. They were just coming back around to the chapel doors when Dumbledore stopped.

"Well, I will see you next week."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

With a last smile, Dumbledore went into the chapel and crossed to the clergy door at the back. He disappeared through it and Harry completed his round of walking, ending up back at the room they had class in. Walking sleepily, he went to the table and picked up his book. He was slightly surprised--though he supposed he shouldn't have been--to see Neville still in the back of the room, struggling to get the stacked chairs (which were caught on the door frame) to slide into the closet.

"Hi, Neville."

Neville jumped, banged his shin loudly on the chair legs, then turned to face Harry as best he could in his close quarters between the door frame and the stack of chairs.

Setting his book down again, Harry took a few steps towards the closet, and asked, "Need help?"

Neville's face burned crimson and he mumbled an inaudible response, shifting uncomfortably.

"It's just that you have this back leg caught." Harry pushed the stack to the right a little and Neville, not meeting Harry's eye, pulled it awkwardly into the closet. Harry stood at the door, holding it open. He was casting about his mind for something to say to draw the other boy into conversation when, from behind him, he heard an all-too-familiar voice.

"Fancy finding you two hiding in a closet together. Comfy?"

Turning, Harry shot Draco a withering glare. The two had gotten through the afternoon without so much as a word to one another and he had hoped it would stay that way.

Ignoring Harry, Draco nodded at Neville, who was still stuck in the closet because Harry was standing in his way of getting out. "I'd be careful if I were you, Longbottom. Being alone with someone like him."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Harry snapped, his annoyance mounting.

"Just that you're a real go-getter."

Neville looked confused and slightly more desperate to get out of his confining position.

"Always after what you want til it's yours," Draco continued, his grey eyes glittering with amused malice. When Neville only continued to stare and Harry's glare turned into a scowl, Draco, with a look of deepest sincerity and concern, leaned forward slightly and whispered loudly to Neville, "He thinks your hot. I wouldn't turn my back to him, if you know what I mean."

Neville looked terrified.

Letting go of the door so it closed on Neville, who still hadn't moved from the closet, Harry strode across the room until he was face-to-face with Draco, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "If you ever say anything like that again--"

"Oh, please," Draco interrupted coolly. "Don't pretend to threaten me." He peered at Harry like he was merely an amusing animal. His voice was a silky purr as he spoke next, and he could have been complimenting Harry for all his tone portrayed. "With your sex drive, it wouldn't surprise me to find you jumping little boys for a quick one in a chapel closet."

Abandoning the plight he had been on for the previous weeks to ignore Draco's taunts, Harry raised his fist before he could even think of what he was doing, and punched Draco in the face.

There was a momentary pause, as if neither Draco nor Harry were quite sure what had happened ready did take place. When the moment was over, Draco retaliated. The two scuffled for several seconds, each throwing punches and insults. They bumped the table, knocking several books to the floor. Sweeping his leg back behind Harry's, Draco tripped him. Harry, who had a fistful of Draco's white shirt, fell backwards, pulling Draco down as well. They rolled around the floor, bumping the table legs and grappling for an advantage. They were surprisingly evenly matched.

Harry threw punches fueled by pent up frustration he had been fighting back for weeks. Without a sense of consequence, he simply let his emotions take control, making his best effort to injure Draco in any way he could.

Draco, for his own part, seemed to be using wells of some emotion also, heightening his own response to Harry's uncontrolled attacks, returning each blow with a savage one of his own.

Though the fight lasted fewer than five minutes, hours could have passed, and neither boy would have known the difference. It wasn't until a harsh voice shouted, "What in God's name do you two think you're doing?" that they became aware of where they were, and that they had an audience.

Harry was hauled roughly off Draco and shaken by a fist holding tightly to a wad of his collar. His anger still out of control, he went to shove the hand away, when, turning, he found his own nose close enough to Tom Riddle's that they might touch if he moved even a centimeter more.

Frozen, his insides flipping back and forth between a writhing nausea and a cold numbness, Harry could only stare into the furious eyes. The need to get away over-powered his revulsion at having to touch the man, and Harry gripped the fist at the throat with clumsily prying fingers. In the process of trying to get away, Harry's nails must had dug into Riddle's skin, because he hissed sharply with pain and let go as if he had been burned.

Before Harry could make further defense, or try to get out of the room, he felt another hand fall on his shoulder. Jumping, he turned and stared for a moment, completely expecting to see Lucius Malfoy or some other Death Eater henchman, until he recognized James's face.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Some of the numbness and sickness wearing off at the sight of his father, Harry looked around. Neville was cringing in the closet doorway and Draco was standing by the wall looking angry and humiliated as he tried to straighten his shirt. He was nursing a flow of blood from his nose.

Not wanting to recount the insult that had started the fight, Harry opted not to answer in favor of occupying himself with wiping the blood off his forearm where he split it open on the corner of the table.

"And you!" Riddle bellowed suddenly, his terrible temper making him appear to tower over Draco, who, in fact, was about half-an-inch taller than the man. "I never would have thought it of you. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry, Pastor," Draco answered, not looking at him.

"You aren't sorry yet," he replied in a furious hiss.

A cold chill went down Harry's spine and he had to choke back the urge to vomit as memories of that cold, hissing voice piercing the night air of a secluded graveyard overwhelmed him.

"I will see your father about this matter, and I expect you to be prepared for a personal interview with me tomorrow afternoon. This behavior is inexcusable." Turing his anger on poor Neville, Riddle yelled, "Longbottom!"

"Y-yes, Pastor?"

Seeing Neville cowering helplessly stirred something within Harry, causing him to speak, his voice strong and commanding. "Leave him alone. He had nothing to do with it." As the man looked back at him in mild disbelief, Harry glared defiantly. "He was just helping Dumbledore and happened to be in the room."

Riddle and Harry stared at each other several tense seconds, then James said quietly, "Pastor, it's getting late and I think Harry should get home and cleaned up."

Shifting his heavy gaze from son to identical father, Riddle said, "Of course. But I will want to see him tomorrow, as well. This is hardly the sort of thing that I will allow to escape disciplinary action."

James nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "He'll be here at two, if that's all right with your schedule."

"Dad--"

James silenced Harry's protests with a dark glare.

"That will be fine," Riddle answered stiffly. He gave Harry a contemptuous look of triumph, then turned his attentions back to Draco. "As for you, boy, to my office. Now. Longbottom, straighten the table before you leave."

"Y-yes, Pastor."

"Let's go, Harry." James maneuvered Harry out of the room and down the hall by the grip he had on his shoulder. He didn't speak as he reached around his son and pulled the door open, then guided him, not unkindly, down the steps and to the car. When they were both in the vehicle, he asked in a wearily voice, "What happened?"

"He insulted Neville," Harry mumbled in a half-truth.

James looked at him in astonished disbelief, as if Harry had tried to do something as stupid and futile as deny his obvious involvement in the entire matter. "Since when do you bloody yourself defending Neville Longbottom?" he demanded.

Harry shrugged. He was definitely getting the impression that he and Neville weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, no matter how much the boy's grandmother might have thought Harry should invited him to his party.

Shaking his head, James put the key in the ignition and started the car. "I'm not going to say anything to that, but I hope for your sake you have better story for your mother by the time we get home."

A sense of dread fell upon Harry and he was surprised to find it felt entirely different, and somehow much worse, than that sense he had gotten from witnessing the merest edge of Tom Riddle's wrath. Lily was going to kill him.

The ride home was silent, and when James pulled the car into the driveway and turned it off, he and Harry just sat for a moment, neither moving to get out. After a minute, James said, "Well."

"Yeah," Harry replied forlornly.

Another moment passed, then James repeated, "Well," but this time, he pushed his door open, signalling to Harry that there was no more avoiding the inevidable.

Making a futile attempt at cleaning some more of the blood off his shirt, Harry followed James to the front door and peeked into the house around him before going in.

The glass kitchen door opened and Lily came out. "How was class--" The words died on her lips as she stared at her son. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then, she exploded. "What on earth happened to you?"

Harry looked at James, who gave him a look that clearly stated he was on his own. He stared at the floor by Lily's feet. "I sort of got in a fight."

"A fight? With who?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy? At church?"

Harry nodded, wishing she would stop repeating everything he said. It all sounded much worse the way she was shouting it. A long moment passed before he said, "I have to see Pastor Riddle tomorrow afternoon. He wants to talk to me."

Lily looked mortified. "The pastor knows about this?"

Staring even harder at the spot on the floor that he had been concentrating on since his mother had appeared through the kitchen door, Harry mumbled miserably, "He's the one who broke it up."

"Broke it up?" she asked slowly, her hands going to her hips as she processed the new information. The sudden calmness of her voice was the gentle breeze before the violent storm. When her horrified mind allowed her to understand that the fact that it had been Pastor Riddle who stopped the boys' fight meant he not only knew of it, but had _witnessed_ it, she began to yell in earnest.

Not bothering to respond to the seemingly endless barrage of questions Lily was throwing at him, Harry merely peered at the floor as bitter feelings welled within him. The irony of the fact that his mother was yelling at him for upsetting Tom Riddle was slowly becoming overwhelming. Just when his anger had returned and he was sure he would start yelling back, Lily stopped.

She looked at him for several moments, finally at a loss. Shaking her head, she said, "Get cleaned up and go to your room."

Not looking up from the floor, Harry turned and trudged up the stairs. Despite how bad he was feeling, he was sure there would be more angry words the next day, after his meeing with Riddle. Resigned to not resolving the issue until then, he went to the bathroom in the upstairs hall and turned the shower on. All he felt like doing was washing off the drying blood and going to bed.

TBC


	10. In Which Riddle Yells

Well, work and classes started back up, so there's a bit of a break in posting. I have to say I'm surprised how quickly editing this is going. I suppose I've been very anxious to get it put up here.

This coming up chapter is significantly shorter than most of the others because of where it ends--or, rather, where the next one begins. There's a bit of a leap that needed to be made and felt like a good place to start a new chapter. I hope everyone enjoys my Tom Riddle: I'm nervous about what you'll all think of him....

**~~***~~**

Harry sat, dread swelling in the back of his throat to the point that it almost choked him. The car went over a bump, jostling him and making the stirring in his stomach feel momentarily unbearable. As James drove the car wordlessly in the direction of the church, the tension in the air heightened with each corner they turned. Lily, for her part, did not speak either, but pursed her lips in a very Aunt Petunia-ish way and stared ahead.

Sinking deeper into his seat, Harry tried to find some thought to comfort him as they turned into the parking lot. It would have been easier to be on his way to some life-threatening confrontation, with Riddle once more playing the part of the evil overlord, than to be going to a meeting with him as the pastor. For one, if Harry was about to die at the Dark Lord's hands, he might have had his parents' sympathy. As it was, neither had passed him more than base pleasantries since his dismissal to his bedroom the previous night.

James turned the car off and looked at Harry in the rear view mirror. "We'll wait out here."

"Oh, no we won't," Lily replied vehemently, undoing her seat belt and opening the car door before James could protest.

Harry cast a helpless look at his father, who shrugged, opened his own door, and climbed out also.

With a sigh, Harry followed suit. His hands in the pockets of the his slacks, he trekked after them, halfhearted in his attempts to keep up. He walked through the door and into the chapel. Lily led the way to the clergy door and knocked sharply, peering at Harry as though she might just realize what torture she was putting him through and not regret it one bit.

When the door was opened, Dumbledore greeted them.

What little hope rose in Harry's chest died as soon as he saw the disappointment on the man's face. This Dumbledore obviously wasn't going to do anything to help him.... Staring at the wall beyond Dumbledore's shoulder, Harry avoided comment as his parents made tense smalltalk.

At length, with all the patience and lack of urgency Harry had come to associate with the man, Dumbledore said, "Pastor Riddle is with Draco at the moment. I'm sure he'll be through shortly."

At Lily's warning glare, Harry muttered, "Thank you, sir."

The quiet group stood around the office door for several more minutes before it opened. Draco emerged looking miserable, his father close behind him. Lucius gave James a deeply contemptuous sneer, then opened the chapel door and pushed Draco through it roughly.

Looking away from the closing door to freedom, Harry returned his gaze to the one to his doom just in time to see Tom Riddle step out into the hall. He smiled stiffly at Lily, nodded curtly to James, then beckoned Harry with a wide, graceful hand and an expression that warned against disobedience.

Harry glanced at James one last time, then took a slow step towards the office.

"I'll see Harry alone first," Riddle said with a genial concern that did not reflect in his cold eyes. "I'll call for you when we're finished." With that, he closed the door.

Trapped in Riddle's office, Harry took a moment to try and calm himself before he had to start answering questions: he was tense to the point of it being painful in his neck and shoulders. _None of that was real_, he told himself firmly, fighting back the defensive urges that were rising in him.

"Sit." All false warmness was gone from Riddle's voice and manner. He strode around his desk and peered down at Harry with unmasked superiority.

Harry sat in the hard chair, his own features schooled into an expression of blank indifference despite the sweat on his palms and the rushing of blood in his ears. Here, at last, was the confrontation he had been avoiding for as long as he could avoid it.

"I'll give you a moment to make your case, though no amount of feeble defense will change the truth of what you are."

"And what, exactly, do you think I am?" he replied, buying himself time to think. He was sure Draco hadn't told the truth about how the fight had started and he had no plans to do so either.

"You are a lying, wretched sinner who should be begging on bent knee for mercy and forgiveness. You are a pathetic and lost soul wandering the path to hell."

Harry glared back, biting down on his tongue painfully to keep from commenting.

"How dare you!" Riddle hissed between clenched teeth, his handsome feature disappearing in an ugly snarl. "Sitting there, staring. Insolence!" His hands shook. "You will know penance at my hands, boy, upon danger of losing your eternal soul."

Seeing the fury glowing in the man's eyes, Harry had no doubt that his subconscious had chosen the perfect person to play the villain in his dream. Steeling himself as if he were before the old Voldemort himself, Harry sneered back, "What do you know about eternal souls? As if you even have one. You stand up there using your position to threaten and scare people into doing what you--"

"SILENCE!" With startling agility, Riddle moved around the desk so he was on the same side as Harry.

Instinctfully, Harry stood, his fists balled at his sides.

"Sit back down, boy," Riddle growled.

"No."_ None of it was real_, Harry repeated to himself as Riddle closed the small space between them. _None of it was real. He can't do anything more than yell and throw a tantrum. It wasn't real._

Riddle grabbed a handful of Harry's shirt and shoved him back into the chair, nearly toppling him over backwards. Harry shook slightly as the man leaned in close to him, each of his slender hands curled around each arm of the chair Harry sat in. "You have been too disrespectful for too long," he started in a suddenly calm voice. "Pride preceedeth the fall, my boy, and you are no exception!" he finished viciously.

At this point, Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Voldemort struck him-- _No. Riddle. Tom Riddle!_

A fire burned in Riddle's eyes. "You stand in danger of hell right now, boy, and I am being generous enough to give you another chance. Now, apologize for you behavior," he commanded lowly, the tones of his voice curling into the air, "and all shall be forgiven."

Harry's eyes hardened as he glared back. He had memories of hell, however unreal they may have been, and he really would be damned before he would bend to Tom Riddle's demands for anything. "No."

Riddle stood back, his fist clenching and unclenching as if he were imagining strangling someone. "I see. You will defy the power and authority of God?"

"You aren't God." He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but he was sure it would make Riddle mad. In this world, where all he could do was throw stinging retorts, Harry suddenly needed to indulge the emotion that boiled in him, telling him to strike at Riddle. To hurt him. To tear him down and kill him....

"I am the authority of God in this perish and you will show proper respect!"

"I am showing you all the respect you deserve."

His eyes bulging hideously, Riddle once again grabbed Harry by his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Holding him firmly despite the boy's attempts to pry apart the man's fingers, Riddle shook him once, roughly enough to cause Harry to lose his footing for a moment. He snarled, "This will be your ruin, boy. You have one final chance to apologize, take penance, and be forgiven, or I will throw you out of my perish."

"Throw me out? I'd walk out if you'd let go of me," Harry replied, still standing on tip toes to keep from being choked by the grip Riddle had on his shirt.

Shoving Harry carelessly so he fell over the chair, Riddle said, "Go then. And I will look down upon you from my paradise while you burn in hell with the rest of the dogs and heathens."

Harry banged his shins on the chair in his effort to keep his footing as he tumbled to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he righted himself and glared at Riddle. "If you're going to heaven, I hope I _do_ end up in hell," he answered, reaching for the doorknob.

Before Riddle could reply, Harry opened the door and marched out into the hallway. He stopped in momentary confusion and surprise at the people who stood before him. In his minutes of confrontation, he had forgotten entirely that his parents and Dumbledore were standing outside. Seeing them now, their expressions mixtures of calm, concern, and disappointed resolve, the anger he felt while closed away in Riddle's office doubled.

Before he could voice the comment that was forming on his tongue, Riddle stepped out around him. He glared darkly at the Potters, then turned to Dumbledore. "Harry Potter is no longer a member of our perish. I want his name removed from the records."

"Pastor--" Lily started in protest.

"Don't," Harry sneered. "It's the biggest favor he's ever done me."

Lily and James looked at Harry for several tense seconds.

"Are you sure you want this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked tentatively.

For a moment, Harry felt bad at the disappointment in the man's tone, then he steeled his resolve and nodded sharply. After a moment he said (to Dumbledore, not looking at his parents), "Sorry." He wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to say it.

"I think we should go," Lily said stiffly. She was clutching her purse severely and Harry could see Aunt Petunia in her darkly thoughtful eyes.

After a moment of looking around at the group who were examining him, Harry opened the door to the chapel and left, not bothering to worry whether or not his parents were following him. He crossed the chapel alone, then stepped into the dim light of the hall near the door. With only a brief glance to see if Lily and James were coming, he continued out to the walk by the parking lot. His parents reached the car shortly after he himself.

No one spoke as James turned the key in the ignition. The drive home was long and silent, and it gave Harry plenty of time to consider all the things he should have said to Riddle. His heart pounded in his chest as he imagined a continuation of the interview in which he told Tom Riddle his exact feelings for him and his church. By the time they got home, his blood was boiling with anger and indignation enough to make him hope the man tried to talk to him again for any reason so he would have an opportunity to use all the cutting insults he had come up with in the past fifteen minutes of silent rehearsal.

When the engine stopped, Harry got out of the car and walked up to the front door, his hands shaking with rage. As soon as the door was unlocked and he and his parents were inside, Lily started the monologue she had obviously been practicing even as Harry had been practicing his.

"I have _never _been so humiliated in all my life!" She marched into the kitchen after Harry, hitting the light switch on the wall and throwing her purse on the table carelessly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

His anger still dangerously close to the surface, Harry didn't trust himself to reply. He merely leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the wall over his mother's shoulder.

When he didn't answer, Lily continued, "I don't know what you said to Pastor Riddle--he had the decency, even in his being upset, to keep confidentiality--"

"_Decency_?" Harry sneered involuntarily. He dropped his arms and stopped leaning on the counter. "If you want to hear about _decency_ from Riddle, I could--"

"_Pastor_ Riddle," she corrected, raising her voice over his in a disturbingly well delivered imitation of Snape. Looking mildly disgusted, she said, "And at the moment he at least has more decency than you. Even _Draco_ had the good sense to try and look ashamed of what he did."

"Want me to tell you what he really did? Because you can be damn sure it was't whatever he told Riddle and his father," Harry retorted viciously, not entirely in enough control of his emotions to bite back the tone and comments he knew he would regret when he had a chance to calm down.

For a second, Lily looked as shocked as if he had physically struck her, then she said, "Don't you ever speak to me in that tone of voice again."

Harry shook his head slightly and strode past her into the hall. If he didn't get out of that room, he knew he would go too far. He didn't want to accidentally bring things from his dream into the argument....

Turning to him, Lily yelled, "Harry, don't you dare walk away from me! We are not through with this conversation!"

"Yes, we are," he answered through clenched teeth.

"What is wrong with you? You've never behaved like this before. Ever since you woke up, you act as if you can just do anything you like!"

Harry stopped mid step, his hand on the door. His heart was pounding like it would burst. He recalled the long-ago conversation he had overheard when James had accused Lily of thinking Harry was only acting like he had lost his memory. Turning to her slowly, he glared at her. "I've been doing what?" he asked with deadly calm.

Heedless of his change in mood, Lily pressed forward at his invitation as if it was all she had been waiting for. "You have been thoughtless, rude, and uncooperative towards everyone who has been trying to help you. If I didn't know you better--"

"You don't know me," he told her plainly, his emotions boiling. His voice shook when next he spoke. "You don't know anything about me, and what I've been through."

Condescendingly, she replied, "You have been through _a car accident_. Other than that, Dr. Crawford says you're fine. All of this attention-seeking has gotten out of hand. And then your father and his friends indulging it--"

One moment, Harry was standing at the doorway, his fists clenching painfully at his sides as he listened with rising anger and disbelief as his mother accused him of making everything up. The next moment, his anger was overtaken by wonderment as the light above the kitchen table began to flicker. The digital clock on the microwave went blank for a moment, only to return with a piercing _beep!_ before going off again. At first, Harry thought it was only him who was shaking until the odd swaying of the curtains and Lily's grasping the back of one of the chairs for stability told him it was more than that.

The terrible image of Aunt Marge swelling grotesquely as the dining room lights flickered around her suddenly filled Harry's mind. Gripped by an inescapable moment of horror, he thought, _I'm going to blow her up!_ The thought existed for only a moment, and seemed ridiculous as soon as the lights went still and the clock on the microwave came on with one final beep and stayed lit.

Feeling sweaty and anxious, Harry thought wildly, _People don't blow up. It just doesn't happen. It's not _real_!_

Recovering from her surprise at the odd behavior of the electricity and the shaking ground, Lily focused on Harry once more and started to continue the argument. "Just because your father-- Where do you think you're going?"

Harry had turned back to the door numbly, still intoning to himself that magic wasn't real and that he had never blown Aunt Marge up, if he did even have an Aunt Marge to begin with. Lily's words fell upon him as though he was deaf.

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry was half way down the hall when James came out of the living room. "Is everything all right? The power just-- Harry, what's wrong?"

"I'm going for a walk," he said flatly, walking around James automatically on his path to the door.

Lily was coming down the hall after him. "I did not tell you you could leave this house!"

Ignoring her, Harry opened the door and left. Walking quickly and without direction, he made his way among the houses of the neighborhood, musing wildly to himself. It was stupid to think about blowing people up. People did not blow up for any reason. By the time he had been walking for twenty minutes his emotions were back in check and he could only be grateful he hadn't said something that embarrassing and crazy out loud.

He continued to wander the streets, Lily's accusations ringing in his ears. He felt bitterness towards her and didn't feel any pull to return home. Her attack on Sirius and Remus's "indulging him," as she had put it, was nearly unforgivable. At least they cared about him.... Angry thoughts rattling around his brain, Harry just walked until he had wended the long way to the school. He sat on the bleachers by the soccer field and thought.

When the sun started to set, Harry looked over his shoulder in the direction of home. Feeling almost too calm, he reasoned with himself that since he didn't feel like going back there, he might as well find some other place to go. At length, he stood and, shoving his hands in pockets, started down the sidewalk. Wherever he ended up going, at least he would be moving. His back and legs were sore from sitting on the hard metal for hours.

It was another half an hour before Harry found any place to be going, and he only found it then as he noticed he was walking up the path to the front door of the Weasley's tiny house. He knocked.

After a moment, the door opened and Mrs. Weasley looked out at him. "Harry! I didn't know you were coming over tonight!"

"Actually, I hadn't planned to. Is Ron at home?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound more normal than he felt.

"He's right in his room." She let him in and walked to the beginning of the hall with him. "If you two want something to eat, I have fresh cookies in the kitchen."

"All right. Thanks." Harry went to Ron's room and knocked. "'S me," he said to the door.

"Come in."

Harry went in and closed the door behind him. One look at Ron assured Harry that he would not be sharing the afternoon's experience--with Riddle or Lily--with him. He was pretty sure he would never share it with anyone: he just wanted to forget the day ever happened.

"How was your meeting with Riddle?"

"I got kicked out of church," he said evasively.

"Bet your parents loved that."

"Mm," he commented distractedly. "Have you heard from Hermione lately?"

With the subject easily changed, Harry only half-listened as Ron told him about running into her completely by accident the day before. He was finally starting to see the merit in her, even if she was a bit bossy and boring. When he asked Harry's opinion on him possibly asking her out, Harry just said, "That'd be a all right," and went back to passively listening while the one-sided conversation ran its usual spectrum from chores, the impending school year, and soccer, with the occasional complaint or comment about Hermione, Colin, or any other random person who happened to pop into Ron's mind.

The evening wore on and when Ron finally looked at the clock, it was nearly midnight. "So, you spending the night, then?" he asked indifferently.

Figuring his parents would have called by now if they thought he was at the Weasleys', Harry shrugged a little and said, "Sure."

They were awake for another two hours, talking and watching TV, before Ron announced his need for sleep.

Harry took a blanket and made himself a bed on the floor. He was awake for almost an hour after Ron fell asleep, taking the quiet time to think about everything and nothing all at once. As he finally began to slip into the darkness of sleep, the wide, bulldog-like face of Aunt Marge floated in his mind as a scathing reminder of his stupidity from earlier. That moment of idiocy was really going to cost him when he would next be faced with Lily. He wasn't looking forward to going home the next morning.

**~~***~~**

_Harry opened his eyes with a start and stared into the murky darkness of a room lit only by several candles in holders on a wall. He was increasingly aware of the fact that he was cold, despite the heat that floated in the air just outside his skin._

_Harry began to pace the room, impatience and annoyance swelling inside him. Where were they?_

Where were who?_ he wondered at himself. Stopping by a low table near the back of the room, he pounded his fist on it and felt slightly relieved as the pain raced up his arm. If they didn't get back soon, he would have Snape strung up._

Snape? Oh, I'm mad at him again?_ Harry mused, still trying to figure out where he was and what he was doing. Just as he was about to walk back to the chair by the empty hearth, the door opened and several figures in cloaks and masks came in. There were five, all together, and being dragged between two of them was a struggling person with a hood tied down over his head.  
_

Death Eaters!_ For a moment, a sharp elation filled Harry with a feeling that could have been deep dread or great joy--the thrill of the feeling was too similar to both, and he couldn't tell the difference._

_Before a full panic set in, Harry said to himself, _Dreaming. I must be dreaming. I'm dreaming about the wizarding world. I wonder if I've gone into another coma....

_One of the cloaked figures shoved the hooded boy onto the floor at Harry's feet, then stepped forward and knelt in subjugation. "My Lord," said the unmistakable tones of Severus Snape, "we have brought him to you."_

_The rest of the Death Eaters removed their masks, revealing themselves to be Nott, Avery, Macnair, and Goyle._

_"Excellent," Harry remarked, grinning despite himself._

I'm not in control! Voldemort? No. He's not real....

_"Thank you for coming," he continued to the hooded boy, who stayed on the floor, apparently frozen. "I have been looking for you, but you seemed to be somewhere else entirely. Take off his blindfold," he ordered, his voice suddenly harsh. "I want to see his eyes." Harry felt a thrill of power as he watched Snape's features darken from the corner of his eye.  
_

_Avery ripped the hood from the boy's head and Harry stared in amazement into his own pale, frightened face._

_The other Harry started at seeing what could only have been Voldemort. The two stared into each other's faces for several long seconds. Neither moved nor spoke, but an irrational anger was swelling in Harry even as he watched the fear swelling in the green eyes that looked up at him._

It can't be!_ Harry thought ferociously, a wild rage completely unrelated to the confusion he felt gripping him. _It's not him!

**~~***~~**

Harry woke from the dream, his throat raw and his head pounding.

"Harry!" It was Ron, leaning over the edge of his bed and looking down at Harry, eyes round and terrified.

"Voldemort!" he said quickly, jumping up from the floor and rubbing at the scar on his forehead involuntarily. "It's Voldemort!"

"Voldie-what?"

"Voldemort!" Harry repeated. "He's got--" Realizing he was about to say that Voldemort had _him_, he stopped. He was shaking and sweaty, and the dull light from the lamp burned into his eyes. Blood pulsed in his ears in time with the waves of pain that shot through his scar.

"_Who's _got_ what_?" Ron prompted urgently.

Dazed, Harry rubbed his forehead again, pushing down harder in an effort to erase the feeling and the memory of the dream. "N-nothing," he said in an unsteady voice. "Just a bad dream."

"Just a bad dream? You were screaming like someone was trying to murder you."

_Someone was_, he thought suddenly, and a cold shiver went down his spine. The beads of sweat that clung to his face, neck, and arms froze and he felt like he'd just been doused with ice water. His hands shaking, he sat down and pulled the blanket up around him a little.

"You all right, mate?"

"Yeah."

"You look terrible."

"It was just a dream," he answered, more to himself than Ron's inquiries.

After a moment more of staring at Harry, Ron seemed pacified and he rolled over, tuned the light off, and went back to sleep.

Unable to shake the shadow of pain still pulsing in his forehead, Harry settled back on the floor with no intention of trying to go to sleep. He had too many questions. Why did he have a dream about Voldemort? Why would he dream Voldemort had him captured? And why would all this make his scar--the one he had gotten a car accident--start hurting like that? He supposed his meeting with Riddle might have sparked the Voldemort dream, but that didn't explain his scar burning.

_Probably just my imagination_, Harry told himself. _It's because I was dreaming about the other world, so my mind is acting as if it's real._

It was a feeble explanation, but Harry, in a very Dursleyish fashion, refused to allow himself to consider that this world might, in fact, be the "other world," because that would just make things too complicated....

TBC

**~~***~~**

So many reviews! I want to say a collective thank you to everyone. ^_^ There were a couple things more than one person mentioned, so I'll address topics:

Neville- Yeah. I wasn't sure about him. When I first started writing I thought he and Harry would be friends, but when he finally showed up I realized that he would still be an outcast and this Harry--the other Harry--is a big-time jock who thinks he's better than everyone. (If you guys haven't picked that up, I don't feel badly abotu mentioning it....) I couldn't see him being friends with Neville: it was far easier to see him being mean to him. I'll be interested to get everyone's opinion of the Harry and Neville interactions in later chapters. ^_^

The boyfriend thing- *SQUEEEE* Yes, our poor cannon Harry was a bit horrified: he remains so for some time, I'm afraid. Who wouldn't be shocked at learning they were in a homosexual relationship with someone they hated, though? I like writing scenes between them in this one and I think you'll all like what I've done with them.

Petites: I'm glad you noticed that Harry is only comfortable around Sirius and Remus. I was trying to convey that without beating people over the head and I wasn't sure I had. But James and Harry seem to be getting along better now, don't they? I think if this really happened Harry would fall in pretty easily with his father. I have to say, as an aside, I really like writing James. Normally I have a hard time getting him because I want to see him the way Harry does in the books: as a flawless hero. Learning that he was really mean in school was hard for me to cope with at first, and it made it really hard for me to decide how I wanted to write his character. I think he came out OK, don't you?

Meany: I sort of agree about Dumbledore. I thought he would be more active in the story, but now that it's all done and I'm rereading it to edit, I think he came out as well as he could. In actuality he and Harry weren't particularly close. No closer than a regular parishioner and his youth leader. But there is more about Harry's church life to come out later (much later, I'm afraid), and I hope you'll get a better feel for my Dumbledore.

A huge thanks again for all the reviews and I hope you all enjoy the rest of the story!


	11. In Which School Begins

This is where I stopped writing for a while. I couldn't decide how I wanted to go on with it: should I keep playing with the summer? Go straight to the school year? I felt like I already did a lot with Harry outside of school.... I think I did the transition pretty well.

I will say here that work around the holidays is getting very busy--I work a 12 hour shift this Tuesday--so updates will be even slower, but I do get a couple days off around Christmas itself and I'll try to do a nice big update. Call it a holiday present. ^_^

Without further ado, here is the story:

**~~***~~**

"I can't find my shoes."

"They should be by the door if you took them off when you came in like you were suppose to," came the tense reply.

Harry glared at his mother for a moment, then left the kitchen. He'd been trying to find his new shoes--which he hadn't worn yet--for the last ten minutes. Bothering to ask Lily had been a last-ditch effort of desperation more than a show of wanting her help. He just didn't want to be late on his first day of school.

The weeks since Harry's excommunication had passed slowly and painfully. Silence had filled the large house, and what few exchanges did take place were polite and cold. He and Lily had almost not spoken to each other at all, and the awkward tension was made even more unbearable by the fact that Harry had no way to vent his frustrations, having been restricted to the house for the rest of the summer. His only reprieve was three hours each day for soccer practice: James had refused to let Lily's punishment cost Harry his spot managing the team. Making the entire situation worse were Sirius's sour comments about Lily, Pastor Riddle, and the unfinished Mustang.

A few days after the initial events, however, Sirius, James, and Harry were given another thing to complain about, and Lily was given another point to get annoyed with everyone over. Harry's class schedule had come in the mail, and he was horrified to find he had not only Chemistry with Snape, but some class called "LIFE."

Sirius seemed to find it morbidly amusing after his initial annoyance wore off, but Harry, who was in no mood to talk about it, had just left the room. He wanted to ignore this new fact until he absolutely had to face it, and that was weeks away.

The only thing that seemed to get Harry through those long days were James's somewhat understanding comments, though at times he would lock that blank and slightly expectant stare on his son. He looked as if he was contemplating something he didn't think could understand him, like a scientist looking at an ameba through a microscope. It was unnerving, but, more often than not, it passed as quickly as it started. Truthfully, Harry was just thankful that the man had been concerned when he came home that first morning after staying at Ron's. He'd been shaky and sick-looking, and James had offered him a spot on the couch and drink. As for Lily, after receiving his punishment from her, Harry couldn't even be sure she had seen him for all her reaction. It was frustrating beyond words.

Pushing the memories of that morning away with a scowl, Harry went upstairs, hoping another check in his room would reveal the shoes. As he opened the door, he caught himself involuntarily rubbing his forehead and put his hand down to his side quickly. He'd been doing that a lot since The Nightmare. For the hundredth time, Harry fought the urge to verbally affirm to himself that it was only a dream: no other incidents had happened since.

Dropping to his knees, Harry peered under his bed, sure the shoes wouldn't be there--they hadn't been last time either. He sighed and sat back on his calves. Looking around for a place he hadn't looked yet, he decided another sort through his closet might be worthwhile.

Fifteen minutes later, his shoes still unfound, Harry groaned when he heard the doorbell ring. It could only be Ron and Hermione. Jogging halfheartedly down the stairs, he started to call goodbye to his mother, then stopped himself and opened the front door.

"Good morning," Hermione said pleasantly.

Ron merely peered through the screen sleepily.

Harry felt relieved at seeing them (he hadn't even been allowed to call them before last week). "Morning." He stuffed his feet carelessly into his dirty sneakers and picked up his bag. He pushed his way out the screen door and started down the path to the side walk, still sulking over his missing shoes.

After several moments of silence, Ron said, sounding a little more awake, "You won't believe who I saw this morning."

"Who?" he responded, not caring.

"Neville."

"I thought he went away to school," Hermione said, her brow creasing with something like concern and annoyance.

"Apparently," Ron continued, sounding pleased that he knew something she didn't, "little Neville was having a really hard time at school, so Gran decided to send him somewhere he has friends."

"Well," Harry said indifferently, "that's good for him."

"It would be," Hermione said, her eyes already narrowed as if in pre-disapproval of something she knew was coming, "if he _did_ have friends."

Ron laughed. "Really."

Scowling, Hermione bit back, "I didn't say that to give you an opening to start in on him. I was just making a point. If his grandmother paid him the slightest bit of attention, she'd _have_ to realize--"

"Anyway," Ron continued over her rant, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "he'll be going to Eldwood for his last year." There was a hint of amused anticipation in his voice that did not escape Harry's notice. If Hermione noticed, she didn't let on: she was too busy overtly ignoring Ron by digging her schedule out of her bag and examining it with unbridled interest.

A dull but persistant feeling of ill ease swelled in Harry's chest and he decided he would rather not join the conversation as it stood. He was completely aware of Neville's friendlessness, and he didn't feel the need to talk about it. What was bothering him the most was knowing that he now had to deal with seeing the poor boy scurry around him like a kicked puppy every day. There were moments after the incident at the chapel that made him want to know what, exactly he had done to Neville, and then there were moments that even thinking he might have been as mean as he felt he had made him sick. There was always time to patch things up.... But somehow that seemed like it would be just one more thing to add to his already-hectic life. Harry had decided to settle for passing chemistry without hurting anyone and getting in his last year of soccer affiliation so he could walk away from the sport for good without feeling like he had let his father down.

The rest of the walk to school passed quickly, Ron's chatter and Hermione's retorts filling the silence created by Harry's quiet mood. As they drew closer to the campus, Harry was surprised at how different it looked with people everywhere. He was only use to the still views of it, lazy and sleepy with summer heat, empty of all life except on the sports fields.

"My first class is in Chester," Hermione said, looking at her schedule once more. "I'll catch up with you at lunch." She hurried off towards the group of smaller buildings to the left of the main one.

"Have fun," Ron said to her retreating back with a halfhearted smirk.

"What are we doing first?" Harry asked. In his frantic search for his shoes, he'd left his schedule on the dining room table, but he knew his Monday classes were the same as Ron's.

Reading, Ron replied, "Life with Snape is first." He paused and made a disgusted face.

"What's life?"

"No philosophy this early in the morning," Ron said with a scowl.

Harry only looked back at him.

Ron continued, "Next is Physics with McGonagall. Lunch, study block, and we wrap the day up with Cultures with Lupin." Ron scowled at the paper. "I hate that they call it 'Cultures.' I mean, come on. It's just another government class."

"Remus calls it civics."

"It's an s-word, all right."

"Civics starts with a c."

"I could think of a few good c-words to give it, too," Ron retorted.

Ignoring the comment, Harry shook his head and started up the steps to the main building. He pulled the door open and walked into the cool darkness. The foyer smelled like books and mildew from the previous June. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he scanned the small space and was surprised to see an oddly familiar woman in a blue and black security uniform smiling at him, though he couldn't have said who she was.

"Good morning, boys," she said as Harry and Ron passed her post.

"'Morning," Ron said without much notice.

Harry, however, stopped. "Tonks?"

Tonks smiled. "Hi, Harry. I heard about your accident. Sergent Shacklebolt was on the call and he had me type up the reports."

"Oh," he answered, still surprised and unsure of what else to say. He looked at her, taking in her dark hair and blue eyes. Though her eyes were particularly vivid, there was nothing about her neat appearance that begged to be turned pink or pig-like. She was actually very tidy, her back rigid-- How had he imagined her to be clumsy and colorful?

"How are you feeling?"

Still thrown off guard, he replied distractedly, "I'm all right."

"I'm glad to hear it. I was afraid it might get boring around here without you in my hair," she chided good-naturedly.

Noticing the look of impatience on Ron's face, Harry said a quick goodbye and started walking again.

When they were a safe distance away, Ron grinned and said, "You moved back into the game fast."

"What does that mean?"

"Officer Tonks. Still think she's cute?"

Harry scowled. "I just wasn't expecting to see her here, that's all. Has she worked here long?"

"She came in the middle of last year. Just in time for your annual tormenting of the headmaster."

_Oh, great_, Harry thought. "Do I even want to ask what I did?"

"You let the lab mice out in the Chester Building. The infestation lasted for about a month, then the head broke down and called in pest control. A lot of money and a few dozen dead mice later, he still couldn't pin it on anyone, but everyone knew it was us." Pause. "Well, you. _I_ only dumped out the mouse boxes. _You_ lifted the building keys off Lupin and organized the whole thing."

_Poor Remus_, Harry thought, feeling slightly guilty.

"I'm guessing we don't get such a good show this year, though, do we?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"Probably not. I might blow up the potions lab though. So watch for that." Harry stopped when Ron stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"You said potions lab."

Harry's face reddened slightly. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't" he repeated firmly.

"Yes, you did! What the hell is a potions lab?"

"I have no idea."

"You're the one who said it."

"You must have been hearing things."

"Anyway," Ron said, perturbed, "here's our class." He walked into a room with a several desks and dull, blue carpeting. They were the only two people there and they picked seats at the back of the room.

Ron leaned back, propping his chair against the wall, and said, "So, ready for the best class ever? The mating habits of bats, as told by the King of Nocturnal Rodents."

Harry, distracted with flipping through his Physics book, only made a noncommittal sound, nodding slightly.

"Shouldn't be too bad," Ron conceded as if Harry was paying attention. "He taught Life our first year and, if I remember correctly, it wasn't too painful. Of course, we were eleven and didn't know what he was trying to talk to us about anyway."

Closing his book, Harry sighed and looked around just as two other boys entered the room. He groaned. It was Draco, followed closely by Goyle.

Spotting Harry, Draco dropped his books on a desk in the middle row and sneered, "Just who I want in my Life class." He glared at him. "Don't get any ideas when the lights go down, all right, Potter?"

Not particularly sure f the meaning behind the jibe, Harry glared back at him. "Take your own advice, Malfoy."

Goyle leered for a moment, but sat down at a look from Draco. Ron shook his head.

Over the next several minutes, five other boys walked in. Each of them was either unfamiliar to Harry, or someone he knew from his own year at Hogwarts. The last of the boys to come in was Neville Longbottom. He was clutching his book bag and looking at the full rows of desks with the fear of a rabbit cornered by a fox: all the seats were taken, which left him standing in front of the class.

Draco snorted with laughter at the sight of him. "Hey, Longbottom, this is the big boys' class. They usually have a study hall for prepubescents in the library."

The other boys, including Ron, snickered appreciatively.

His face red, Neville scanned the room once more for an empty seat.

"Why are you standing there like an idiot?" Snape entered the room and was now glaring down at the boy. He was wearing his black slacks and turtleneck under a blazer. His hair hung around his face, framing his pallid features and predatory eyes.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The jolt of recognition that had been lacking in their prior meetings finally gripped Harry and he could see himself hating this man. He wasn't the soccer coach in the sweatpants, nor was he Lily's friend, who liked milk in his tea. He was Severus Snape, and he was frightening.

"T-there are no more seats," Neville answered in a small voice, looking at Snape's knees.

Snape's lips thinned with annoyance. "Then I suggest you go and get one from another room. If you are not back here in--" He looked at the clock above the blackboard. "--one minute, you will be considered late."

Neville took a moment of obvious thought to decide if he should bring his book bag with him or leave it behind, then, still clutching the bag, walked quickly out of the room.

The boys snickered again.

Harry just shook his head. He felt sorry for Neville, and his decision to keep his head down and try to get through the year unscathed was being severely tested: given that it was only Monday morning of the first week of class, that did not bode well for his resolve.

"All right, children," Snape said with a note of dull annoyance. He peered around at them, his dark eyes narrowing as they passed over Harry. "First of all, I want to make it quite clear that I am only teaching this class because of an unfortunate incident, completely out of my control. Now that we understand that I do not want to be here, let me assure you that I know most of you don't want to be here either. Luckily, this course consists mainly of reading directly from a book prepared by the Educational Department. As such, I do not feel the need to stand in front of you for the next forty-five minutes. I will have you take turns doing the reading."

Leaning across the space between the rows, Harry whispered to Ron, "What is this class?"

"You honestly don't know?"

Harry glared at him.

"Potter, since you are in a talkative mood today, you can begin." With a long, purposeful stride, Snape moved up the row until he stood directly in front of Harry. He dropped a paperback manual on his desk and said, "Page two. Begin at the 'TEACHER' cue." Turning, Snape walked to the desk at the head of the class and sat in the cushioned chair. He folded his hands together and peered at Harry. "Begin."

Annoyed at being singled out, Harry glared down at the book. "'This term we are going to be studying sexual intercourse.'" He stopped and stared at the page to make sure he'd read correctly. Looking up, he saw the impatient stares and bored expressions of his classmates.

Snape peered at him. "Just sound the words out, Potter," he said. "One syllable at a time."

His cheeks going slightly red at having to read this in front of the entire class, Harry continued in a mumble just loud enough to keep Snape from demanding he speak up. "'Sexual intimacy is an act between a man and a woman--'"

"Or two men, in Longbottom's case," the boy sitting behind Draco sneered.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco only looked bored and unamused at the comment. Goyle and the rest of the class chuckled.

Harry's face burned and he hoped it wasn't as red as it felt, but, judging by the snickers that followed the comment, it probably was. He would have cared more if he wasn't so busy wondering exactly how "intimate" his relationship with Draco had been--a thought he hadn't dared allow himself to entertain until now. Swallowing thickly and feeling sick, he continued, "--between a man and a woman who have established a relationship with one another.'" He looked up at Snape. "It says to pause for comments," he muttered, feeling miserable.

Just then, the door opened and Neville waddled in, dragging a desk behind him, still trying to hold onto his book bag. Several boys snickered, and Goyle started laughing.

"Settle down," Snape said in a bored voice. "You're late, Longbottom." He looked back at Harry. "There are no comments. Continue."

Harry sighed. "'The main design of intercourse is procreation, or the production of offspring. The essential differences in the male and female anatomies are what allow for intercourse. In the coming weeks, we will explore these differences and discover the way they work together to create life."

"All right, Potter, pass the book to Longbottom."

Looking up from settling his borrowed desk at one side of the room, farther forward than the rest of the rows, Neville looked horrified.

If it didn't mean that he was off the hook, Harry might have felt bad about passing the manual up the row to poor Neville; however, he couldn't quite manage to feel anything but relief that he'd gotten out of that fairly unharmed. He was slightly disturbed by the new thoughts of himself and Draco that were swimming in his mind, but outwardly he was still in one piece.

The rest of the class passed quickly as the manual was handed from boy to boy until nearly everyone had a turn to read. Harry blocked out most of what was being said, still preoccupied with trying to repress thoughts of himself and Draco doing things he wasn't even sure they'd done. By the time the bell rang, he was in no mood to go through the remainder of the day. He just wanted to go home and pretend sex education with Snape had never happened.

"That could have been worse," Ron commented lightly as he and Harry walked out of the room.

Harry still felt too ill to say anything: he was noticing that Draco had just passed close beside him in the crowded hall. The accidental and unacknowledged brush of their shoulders filled him with an odd mixture of feelings. Watching the other boy's retreating back, he wondered, as he had the day he'd met Draco after practice to return the class ring, exactly how he could have found Draco attractive. There was nothing there now.... Harry flinched as he caught himself evaluating Draco's potential good points in an effort to justify the relationship he didn't remember having. The thought sickened him, but he couldn't help wondering exactly how it had come about in the first place.

_Maybe we were drunk at a party_, he thought, scowling to himself. He was really starting to not like the idea of parties.

For the rest of the morning, Harry stayed close to Ron and tried not to say anything more than, "Hello," to the many people who tried to stop him to talk.

McGonagall's class wasn't much harder than he had expected it to be. She was still stern, but she seemed to understand the fact that Harry wasn't in a very good position to answer questions, and he was grateful that she didn't try to make him. Though he still didn't recognize anything about the class other than her teaching style, Harry was put enough at ease by McGonagall's familiar presence to enjoy the hour.

Like physics, study hall (supervised by a short man with thinning hair who Harry had never seen before) went smoothly. At the beginning of the class a pretty girl with blond hair tried to get Harry to sit beside her, but Ron pushed her along out of their way, stating that they had already picked seats in the back, away from her.

Sliding into one of the seats in the back row, Harry leaned over and whispered, "Who was that?"

"Candice. You dated her for a couple months last year. It was sort of a messy break up." Ron looked away as he said that. "Long story short, you don't want to sit beside her."

"Oh." Sitting back, Harry stared ahead. It seemed weird to him to think he'd ever had a girlfriend besides Ginny. It made his stomach turn sickeningly as if he was on a very fast amusement park ride that was going out of control. After several seconds, his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "What do you mean by 'messy?'"

"Well, you sort of found out she was cheating on you."

Even though he didn't remember it, Harry felt a small blow to his ego. "With who?"

"Malfoy."

Harry suppressed a groan, an odd unease whose root he could not name building in him. It seemed like he could trace every difficulty he had ever had back to Draco and he was really getting sick of it. _I bet he had something to do with the embarrassing Cho incident, too_, he thought, scowling. Harry spent the rest of the period glaring at the notes he was supposed to be reviewing, then followed Ron wordlessly into the hall when the bell rang.

"Let's find Hermione and head to lunch. I'm starving."

Harry nodded his agreement and they started back towards the end of the building they'd entered from. When they walked by Officer Tonks, they both nodded a quick hello, then stepped out of the building into the bright sunlight. Freed from the stagnant smell of books and fresh paint, Harry felt a little of the unease leave him. He'd been nervous about this day for weeks and he was relieved to know it was almost over. Just lunch and class with Remus left.

Just as he was about to voice his opinion on the subject of lunch, Harry looked up and past Ron, and the words died on his lips. Across the small courtyard that sat in the middle of the cluster of class buildings stood a group of girls, and one of them was looking--rather, staring at him. She didn't look away when their eyes met, and, for a moment, Harry was transfixed. There was nothing striking about her, really, except how familiar she looked. She had short black hair, and her face was round and cute--nowhere near beautiful, but attractive in an unconventional way.

"What is it?" Ron asked, following his line of vision. "Oh no," he intoned when he say who Harry was looking at.

"Who's she?"

"No one you want to mess with."

Suspicious at Ron's evasive answers, Harry asked, "Is she someone I should know?"

"'Should' and 'used to' are two completely different concepts," he answered vaguely. After a second, he sighed and said, "That's Pansy Parkinson. And yes, you two are familiar with each other."

Harry looked back at Pansy with unmasked disbelief. Could it really be her? Somehow, she didn't look the same as he remembered, though Harry couldn't have said what was different.

She stared back at him, a brief smirk crossing her lips then disappearing.

Harry looked at Ron. "So what happened between us?" he asked somewhat fearfully.

"I really don't know. You two use to be friends until the beginning of last summer. It was about a week before the accident when you guys had a big fight about something."

"How on earth did I end up being friends with her?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Her mom and your dad work together, so you two ended up at a lot of Christmas and company parties together. At least, that's what you told me."

"Were we good friends?"

"So-so, as far as I could tell."

Harry scowled. He could tell Ron was being deliberately vague about the details, which probably meant something had gone on that he didn't think Harry would want to know about. However, the situation with Draco still had him unsettled, and if he'd had a real relationship with a girl, even Pansy Parkinson, he would be glad to know about it. Pressing forward, he said, "Did you ever think--"

"Uh-oh."

Harry looked back towards the group of girls and noticed that Pansy was moving away from the others. Her eye were fixed on Harry and her movement was a purposeful stride in his and Ron's direction. As Pansy approached them, her features became darker. She left the sidewalk and crossed the grass, stepping back onto the concrete several feet ahead of them. Pansy stopped and waited for them to reach her, her eyes narrowing first at Ron, then Harry.

"Hey, Pansy," Ron said stiffly.

From the closer vantage point, Harry could see she was wearing pink lip gloss and makeup around her eyes that would have made them look large and innocent if they weren't so shadowed over with thoughtfulness.

Ignoring Ron's halfhearted greeting, Pansy said to Harry, "Good to see you up. I thought I'd have to give a speech at your funeral, or something. That accident was really terrible." Harry was about to thank her for her concern, but then she continued, "But I guess that's what you get for going riding in cars with boys without your daddy's permission, isn't it?"

If her tone wasn't neutral, Harry might have been insulted. As it was, he was only curious and couldn't find a reply.

"You do still talk, don't you?"

"Umm, yeah. You just caught me off guard." Harry's mind was still reeling over the "riding in cars with boys" comment. Could she know about him and Draco? No. That would be-- Well, it just couldn't be.

She smiled. "I always do." Turning to Ron, she said, "Take a walk, Weasley."

"Not likely, Parkinson. Besides, we're gonna be late."

"To what? Lunch?" she sneered.

Ron glared, his ears turning red.

"It's fine," Harry said quietly. "I'll catch up with you."

With a short, hurt look at Harry, Ron left, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets as he trudged up the walkway to the cafeteria.

Pansdy gave him an annoyingly superior look. "So, tell me I was right."

"About what?"

"Draco. I told you he was trouble."

Harry felt his face go red and he hated himself for betraying to her his emotion. She might not even be talking about their relationship....

"You should have left him to me."

Scowling and glancing around to make sure there was no one close enough to hear--Pansy was hardly bothering to keep her voice down--he replied, "Well, he's all yours now."

Her eyebrows raised with the first real sign of emotion from her since she'd approached Harry. "Broke up? I hope Weasley didn't have anything to do with you changing your mind about Draco, because that would be too much of a trade down to be worth it." Pansy carelessly brushed her bangs out of her eyes and peered up into the sun for a moment. "I mean, I don't care if I can't have you because of Draco, but to lose to him would be humiliating."

"Actually, I don't, umm, like guys. So, yeah. No, Ron didn't have anything to do with it." _I can not be having this conversation_, he thought. _Not with_ her.

That amused smirk returned. "Draco sure knows how to turn 'em off. Oh well. All the better, in my opinion. Does this mean we're friends again?" She sounded like she didn't much care either way.

Harry could only stare. He wished he could remember what their friendship had been like before. He wished he knew what they'd fought over, and how Pansy knew about him and Draco. He wished he knew if he could trust her enough to ask her questions about himself before the accident. He wished a lot of things, but only shrugged in response to her question.

"So like you," Pansy answered nonchalantly. "If you grow a set and decide you wanna apologize for being an ass, you know my number." Without waiting for Harry to reply, she turned and strode back over the lawn towards her friends, who had been watching their conversation with avid interest. A cute blond asked Pansy something, to which she shrugged.

Feeling even more ill at ease than he had when he was reading out of the Sex Ed. book in Snape's class, Harry started towards the cafeteria.

**~~***~~**

Harry stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, frustration mounting as he thought about the events of the day. Still distracted from his conversation with Pansy, he'd managed to turn Remus's class--the one that should have been the easiest--into the most difficult hour of the day. Thinking about it was making him feel even worse, something he didn't think possible. Grabbing his pillow and pressing it over his face, he yelled as loud as he could.

For several minutes, Harry just lied there with the pillow over his face, hoping he might suffocate. When he found himself to still be alive after ten minutes, he shoved the pillow aside and sat up. This wasn't helping. Ron said Harry knew Pansy from his dad's job, so why not just go ask him about her?

Standing up, Harry walked down the stairs and into the living room where James was sitting with Lily. Ignoring his mother with little effort, Harry said, "Dad, you work with Mrs. Parkinson, right?"

Lily stiffened visibly.

James looked away from the TV. "I used to. She's in a different office now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I talked to her daughter, Pansy, today. I sort of got the feeling we use to, you know, know each other pretty well. But I don't remember it very much." _Or at all_, he added to himself.

His brow furrowed with thought, James took a moment before answering. "Well, I know you two talked to each other at company events. She's called here for you a couple times. I never saw you spend time with her, or anything. Come to think of it, it's been a little while since you've mentioned her." He thought a second. "Probably not since last year."

"Yeah. According to Ron, we had a fight or something and haven't really been talking to each other. Today she said I could call her if I felt like apologizing for something."

Lily snorted and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

James glanced at her, then turned back to Harry with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe this is something you talked to your mother about."

Harry debated for a moment, weighing the option of asking Lily for her opinion, or continuing to play the ignore game they'd been locked in. He sighed and walked back out of the room. Lily gave him snide comments about shoes, never mind what she might say to him if he tried to go to her about something important.

Trudging up the stairs, Harry plodded into his room and flopped listlessly unto his bed. He was in no different a position than he had been other than the fact that now he was on his stomach instead of his back....

Harry was suddenly pulled out of his wallowing by a light knock at the door and his mother's soft voice. "Honey?"

He grunted a reply into his pillow.

"I think we've carried this on long enough," she continued in a tired voice. "It's getting ridiculous that we aren't even talking to one another."

Agreeing with her completely, Harry pushed himself up and looked at her.

"I--" Lily stopped. "I have no idea what you've been through. I thought whatever it was would go away and you'd go back to being who you always were. When it didn't turn out that way, I was disappointed."

"To say the least," Harry said quietly.

"I'm sorry. But you have to admit you have been just as much a party to this as I have."

Harry was quiet for several seconds, thinking about the previous months. He supposed he hadn't even tried very hard to make things up with his mother. Truth be told, he'd been so concerned with whether or not James would accept and love him that he'd never even thought to win Lily's approval. Somehow, he thought she'd just automatically love him, the way he had her, and that would be that. A bitter taste crept into his throat as he recalled the day he'd woken up and seen his mother. His chest ached and he wanted to go back to that time and do it all over again. Borrow Hermione's time turner and make things right....

"I understand if you're still upset. Honestly, I am too. But we won't stop being upset with each other if we don't talk about it."

"I'm not upset with you," Harry finally said, scowling slightly.

"Oh." Taken aback, Lily thought a moment before saying, "Well, I suppose that's a step in the right direction then."

"If I'm upset at all, I'm upset with myself. There are things I should-- I forgot stuff that people just don't forget. I mean, there's no way-- It doesn't make any sense."

Lily walked into the room and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. "Honey." She sighed as if there was more she wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Everything was so complicated in my dream, but all the simple problems that came up had simple answers. Now, _everything_ is simple, but there aren't _any_ answers, so it's just frustrating. I wish I could just go to the doctor's and have them wave a magic wand and make all my memories come back," he confessed, feeling inexplicably guilty and somewhat ashamed.

Lily hugged Harry tightly. "I wish it worked that way, too," she whispered. She sat there, holding him for several minutes before saying, as if the pause had never happened, "But it doesn't work that way."

"Are you really that mad that I'm not going to church any more?"

"No. Not now. I wish you would change your mind, though."

"Why?"

"God is important."

"If I ever decide I want to learn about God, it won't be from Tom Riddle," he said firmly. He didn't want to leave any doubt in her mind as to the fact that he was not stepping foot inside that church again for any reason. He'd let his father hope about soccer until he'd been forced onto the team. There was no way he was giving Lily that option.

"What did he say to you?" she asked in a voice so soft he could only hear her because her lips were right by ear.

Memories of that long-ago interview in Riddle's office and the resulting nightmare flooded Harry's mind with painful clarity. It had hardly been the end-all war that the wizarding world had been preparing him for, but he had seen Voldemort in Riddle's eyes, and just knowing that that creature really existed inside the man was enough to turn his guts to ice and make his throat tighten. Not trusting himself to even give half an explanation, Harry remained silent, sitting in his mother's embrace, hoping she wouldn't push the subject.

"I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Mom."

"Let's not be mad at each other any more." Her voice was still a thoughtful whisper, as if she might be talking to someone else entirely who she alone could see.

"OK," he answered in a whispering voice equal to hers.

Another minute passed before Lily released Harry from the embrace. She brushed his hair back out of his face and smiled, her cheeks streaked with dried tears.

A feeling of resolve and comfort filled Harry. It was quickly replaced by his returned curiosity concerning Pansy. If he'd had only an ounce less tact, he probably would have asked his mother about her right then. As it was, he gave Lily a half smile to show all really was forgiven and forgotten, and decided to bring it up again after dinner. The sooner he worked out the mystery of Draco and his relationship, the sooner he could move on to worrying about other things. And right now, Pansy seemed to be the only person besides Draco who knew anything about it, and who might be able to help him.

TBC

**~~***~~**

There you have it. The school year begins. I really liked writing the summer stuff more because it was less hindered by a schedule--I could just say it was any day I wanted and that anything had happened. Rereading over it, I think this and the next chapter will be my least favorite, though I do love the part where Harry accidentally calls the chemistry class a potions lab. Interesting note: I really did type "potions lab" by accident when I first wrote this part. I started to change it, but thought it would be funny to leave it in, so I added Ron's reaction. Comedic genius at it's best.... -_-*

Review responses.... First, a thanks to everyone. Umm, it's a little weird reading the reviews when I've finished the story and I know what's coming.... Some of you expressed strong opinions about certain characters and situations.... Luna will be in it. Next chapter, maybe the one after (I'm not positive). She isn't in it very much though. I will say that we don't see Pastor Riddle again. We _might _have, but the story took a different turn than I first thought. We will definitely hear about him again, but I won't say any more about that right now.

I'm surprised there haven't been a lot of comments about Snape, but that's probably just because I adore him so much.... I hope you'll all like what I do with him in later chapters.

For now, another huge thanks to you all. I'll try to update again tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll be able to. If not, Wednesday, definitely.


	12. In Which Colin is Creepy

Well, I made it through my super long work day.... We still have a couple more days of crazy hours before Christmas, then leading up to New Year's Day, though, so it's not over yet. I plan on a decent-sized update for the 24th (as long as everything works out like I think it will), but for now chapter 12 will have to hold you over. ^_-

The more I read over the parts withPansy the more I wonder if I like her or not. When I started this I think I was going in one direction withintroducing her, then the year went by and I seemed to have forgotten why she was there, so I had to start all over with her character. If there are inconsistencies because of the lapse in writing, I think Pansy's character would be one of them....

This is also where Luna is...umm...introduced....

I hope you like this chapter. -_-*

**~~***~~**

The hours leading up to dinner seemed to stretch into something resembling forever. When at last food had been served, eaten, and cleared, Harry stood and followed his parents out onto the porch. For the first time in weeks, Harry didn't retreat to his room as soon as the mandatory custom of family dinner was complete. James seemed pleased and Lily was nothing short of beaming when Harry sat beside her on the swinging bench seat.

"Glad to see the storm has finally passed," James commented casually.

Harry gave a half smile, his thoughts preoccupied. After a moment of silence, he asked tentatively, "Mum?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Do you know anything about Pansy?"

As if she had been forced to think of some terrible memory, a scowl crossed her face, and the tension from earlier when she'd overheard Harry ask James the same question returned. The silence continued until Harry was just about to ask again, when Lily said softly, "You two spent some time together. Mostly at parties and such."

"So, we were friends?"

"I don't know if I would go that far, but you did occupy yourselves with each other when there was no other entertainment."

"Lily," said James, who'd been listening as avidly as Harry, "for goodness's sake, give the boy a straight answer."

She sighed. "All I know about your relationship with her is that you changed a great deal after you started spending time together. Granted it wasn't much time, but it must have been enough to effect you."

"Like, maybe we were...dating?"

"I really couldn't say. I will express my opinion that you're better off not associating with her now." There was a pause. "Apparently, she's been in a lot of trouble at school."

"How do you know that?" James asked.

"Severus and I talk do talk about our jobs sometimes," she answered somewhat defensively. "When Harry first started spending time with her around school he mentioned I might want to discourage it."

James made a face but kept any comments to himself.

Harry sat back and looked out at the house across the street from his own. He felt just as confused as he had before, but now that confusion was infused witha determination to speak with Pansy the next day. His mother might think he was better off, and Snape, too (for all that mattered to Harry), but he wanted answers, and it sounded like Pansy was the only one who had them.

**~~***~~**

The next day Harry went through the motions of being in class with little enthusiasm. If Ron or Hermione noticed, they didn't say anything. They, too, seemed to be preoccupied. It wasn't until lunch that Harry learned that all three of them were thinking about the same subject.

"Harry," Hermione said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group.

"Hm?"

"Ron mentioned that you talked to Pansy Parkinson yesterday."

"It was more her talking to me," he replied evasively. Hermione had that fierce glint in her eyes that she got when she knew she was right about something that she thought someone might disagree with--she was ready for a debate and Harry didn't feel much like having one.

Ron stared hard at his food and Hermione's eyes narrowed in the way they always did right before she became almost unbearably bossy.

"Are you sure she's the best person for you to be spending time with right now? You have a lot to catch up with, and she's not exactly the model example to help you with it."

Sighing, Harry set his fork down and looked at her. "I think I can handle myself, thanks."

Hermione looked disapproving, but remained strangely quiet on the subject. In an obvious effort to express her negative feelings for Pansy, she began to critique the American Literature professor's introduction to the textbook. "I have to wonder if he's even read it himself...."

Harry suppressed a sigh. His appetite was gone and it was all he could do to stay sitting at the table. He did appreciate Hermione, but not right now. Not when he had his mind on something he knew she disapproved of. It was just difficult to know that he couldn't go to his friends for advice he felt he so desperately needed. Of course, they had given him their advice...it just wasn't the advice he'd wanted.

"Are you going to see the new movie this weekend?" Ron asked suddenly, as if trying to change the subject of thought that was flowing amongst the three of them.

"The action one?" Hermione asked with distaste.

"It's more of a world drama," Ron defended.

She shook her head.

"What about you?"

"Probably not. I have a few things I wanted to get done. And Mom is talking to me again, so I have to clean my room."

Ron poked at his food moodily. "Wish my mom would let me get off my chores when she was mad at me. I'd never have to lift a finger."

"Hmm," Harry replied. As he glanced around the room, he couldn't help but notice Pansy sitting at a corner table with her group of cackling friends. They all wore too much eye makeup and they laughed too loudly, he decided.

As if drawn to his gaze, Pansy turned to him and their eyes locked. She smiled a little and nodded, as if in answer to a question Harry hadn't realized he'd asked.

Without thought, as if this interaction had happened a million times before in exactly the same way and he was now running on instinct, Harry stood. "Bathroom," he muttered hastily in response to the questioning looks Hermione and Ron turned on him. He nearly felt embarrassed and ashamed of how quickly he had jumped at Pansy's silent command, but he couldn't stand all the questions he had any more.

Not sure where he was suppose to be going to meet her, Harry walked out of the cafeteria and stopped by the water fountain at the far end of the hall. She'd see him if she came out the same door....

Several minutes passed and there was no sign of her. Harry started to feel ridiculous, like he was a dog rolling over for a treat he was never meant to have. As he studied out the merits of tucking his tail between his legs and returning to Ron and Hermione, he was stopped by Pansy's voice, at hailing volume, calling to him from the opposite direction from the cafeteria.

"Memory damage, Potter?" Her tone was snide and careless, as if daring anyone to find them meeting each other.

"I've been waiting for about five minutes, anyway. What took you so long?" he replied feebly.

"Just to clear up your forgetfulness, we use to meet by the back door." She stopped beside him, gave him a short, appraising look, then shifted her weight impatiently. "So, lover boy, what did you want?"

"Could we go somewhere else?" Harry asked with a nervous glance down the hall.

The two walked back in the direction from which Pansy had emerged. Turning a couple corners that looked like utility halls, they slipped out two huge, grey doors. They were behind the cafeteria, beside the teachers' parking lot. To the right was a green dumpster.

"Fancy meeting you here," Pansy said, turning sharply to face Harry and leaning against the brick wall.

"Yeah."

"You did want something, didn't you?"

"Sort of."

Pansy smirked. "You know, if I didn't know you'd tell me before I had to figure it out on my own, I would _swear_ you really did have memory damage." She stared at him once more, like she was sizing him up, or as if she'd never seen him before. "You do remember everything, right? From the party?"

"Mostly," Harry lied. The fact that she'd been able to read him so easily unsettled him.

Her lips curved in a thoughtful frown. "Mostly? As in, 'not at all?'" she asked decisively.

"There are a few hazy spots."

"Like what?"

"This really isn't what I wanted to talk about," he replied, though it sort of was--ha hadn't expected to be so uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Do you remember the fight you had with Draco?"

Harry scowled. This was not going how he'd planned at all. "Look, this was a bad idea." He started to walk back to the door, but Pansy wrapped her slender fingers around his wrist. It was a light grip that he easily could have broken, but he didn't. Instead, he allowed himself to be stopped, though he did not face her.

"What, exactly, do you think happened that night?"

Harry sighed. It must have been the gentle hint in her usually demanding voice that got to him, because before Harry knew what was happening, he heard himself say, "I don't know. But I _do_ I know it was Draco's fault."

"You've been blaming him?"

"This was a bad idea," he repeated.

"Harry, Draco didn't do anything. That fight was my fault."

Harry sighed again, resigned to giving away every scrap of dignity he might still have in this situation. "Pansy, I don't even remember a fight. All I know is Draco seems to think he caused the car accident. He apologized, and I assumed he must have been right."

"That was my fault," Pansy repeated evenly, as if it were a textbook fact. "Draco was drinking too much, like usual. I set it up for you to find him with Daniel."

_Daniel?_ Harry wondered, his head suddenly spinning.

"They weren't doing much more than talking. I'm the one who tossed the salt on and rubbed it in."

"Why did I go for a drive with Draco if I was mad at him?"

"You didn't. After you two argued and tossed a couple punches, you stormed out of the house and disappeared. Once Draco cooled down, he went looking for you."

Feeling slightly numb in his limbs, Harry said, "Draco wasn't driving?"

Pansy shook her head.

"Who was?"

"I could venture a guess, but I won't."

"Why not?"

With a sigh, Pansy said, "Well, first of all, it doesn't matter if I'm right or not, because it still happened, and you have to deal with it just the same. Second, if I'm wrong, it will just be one more thing I messed up."

His cheeks flushing slightly, Harry asked, "Why did you want me to find Draco with someone else?"

Pansy just laughed a little. "You are forgetful these days."

Scowling at her, Harry muttered, "Never mind then."

"So, now that you know the truth, are you going to run off and make up with your beloved?" She ran a teasing hand up his bare arm.

Harry shivered involuntarily and stepped away from her. "I told you before, I'm not interested in guys."

"Don't blame you." Despite the heavy tone in her voice, Pansy's eyes shown with all the contentment of Moaning Myrtle discussing death.

"You sound like you're really enjoying this," he accused.

"What I'm enjoying is seeing you squirm. It's not a very widely viewed show, but it's definitely worth the high admission fee." Pansy's smirk turned into a smile. "Besides, you're cuter when I have you by the balls. Figuratively, of course."

Harry was starting to think his mother had been right about it being best if he didn't associate with Pansy. Yes, she knew more than he did about things he was desperate to remember, but this was hardly turning into a situation that felt much more comfortable than Draco pinning him against the church door before deacon training class.

Changing her tone back to an unconcerned casual, Pansy said, "So, your little bump on the head knocked you straight. How did you break that to Draco?"

"It wasn't too hard." Harry looked around. "We should go back in. We'll be in trouble if we're late for next class."

She looked a little disappointed. "Yeah, I guess. I'll see you around." With that, Pansy opened the door and went back inside without bothering to wait for Harry.

Left alone, Harry leaned against the wall. The talk that he'd hoped would make him feel better only managed to confuse and frustrate him. Whatever Pansy knew, it was obviously something she didn't want him to know. It had been a waste of time.... Well, not totally. He _did_ know that Draco hadn't been driving. Not only that, but none of it had really been his fault. The poor sod was just too drunk at the time to know that for himself.

With a sigh, Harry went inside and walked along the hall. The way back to the cafeteria seemed longer now that his thoughts were heavier. The same intense swell that had driven him to seek out conversation with Pansy despite all warnings made him want to speak to Draco. Why, he couldn't say. Maybe to assure the boy that it wasn't his fault. Though the very presence of a need to relieve Draco Malfoy's guilt bothered Harry.

When Harry returned to the table and sat beside Ron, he sighed and rested his chin on his hand.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed knowingly.

Glaring back, Harry said, "No." His reply felt incomplete and he wanted to say something else, but nothing was coming to mind. He glared out the window, wishing it was time to go home so he could be by himself.

**~~***~~**

"Harry?"

Harry, who was lying on his bed trying to do his homework, looked up from his textbook as he mother walked into the room.

"Your father and I are going to the store. We'll be back in a couple hours. Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks." When she left, Harry sighed and tossed his book aside. It was no use. He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Pansy. There were only two people who knew anything about what really happened that night and Harry didn't trust either of them.

But why shouldn't he trust Draco? They'd been in a relationship. Draco couldn't be all bad....

_Maybe_.... Harry shook his head. _No. Not Draco. Just let it go. It's in the past. Who cares what happened?_

The answer, simply, was that _he_ did.

**~~***~~**

As he, Ron and Hermione walked to school the next day, Harry tuned out all conversation around him. He was still locked in a battle with himself over Draco. He knew Pansy wouldn't give him answers, and he knew he had to have them. That left only Draco.

When they reached the school Harry parted ways withhis friends and walked towards the science building at the back of campus. It would be his first chemistry lesson with Snape and only the realization of how unprepared for it he was could drive thoughts of Draco out of him mind. Pushing the door open, Harry walked down the short hallway looking for Lab 2. Spotting the sign on the farthest door, he walked tentatively into the classroom.

There was a wide, black counter top attached to the back and side walls. It was mostly clean with only the odd microscope and wooden test tube rack. Three rows of four two-person desks filled the center of the room. Two wide windows were open to let the morning coolness into the room, and overall it was surprisingly bright and almost cheerful.

Picking an empty seat near the door, Harry set his things down and glanced around for anyone he knew. Luna Lovegood was sitting in the back of the room by herself and Nott was near the far wall. Two girls who looked oddly familiar were whispering together at a table in the middle. The remaining eight people were unfamiliar.

Just as Harry began to relax, the door opened. He tensed and relaxed only slightly when he saw Draco, not Snape, walk in.

Ignoring Harry, Draco walked to the back of the room and sat by himself.

Several minutes passed before Snape arrived, his dark shirt and jacket odd in the white, sterile room. He marched to the desk at the front of the room, set his case on it, and took out a sheet of paper. Without introduction--and he clearly needed none, judging by how the students straihgtenedin their seats--he began to call the role. When he was finished, he said, "This term, as withevery other, you will be working with partners. As several of you have chosen to sit alone, I will give you one minute to rearrange yourselves. Anyone without a partner at the end of that time will be assigned by me."

There was the racket of scurrying and Harry, acting before thinking, grabbed his bag and slipped into the seat beside Draco, earning a slight glare from Nott, who had to change direction and sit beside Luna.

"What are you--" Draco started with a sneer, but his protest was cut off by Snape saying, "Any complaints with your desk mates?"

Nott raised his hand.

Sneering with amusement, Snape offered, "Would anyone like to switch with Mr. Nott?"

Draco eyed Luna then glared even more heavily at Harry, but didn't say anything.

"My condolences," Snape said to Nott. "The tables are numbered starting with the one by the door and going up the rows. When I call your table number, one person will come to my desk andretrieve two books. Table one." A short girl with blond hair walked to the front of the room. On the calling went until he said, "Table eight."

After an unreturned glance at Draco, Harry stood and went to get the books.

"Interesting choice, Potter," Snape said under his breath, his tone strangely conversational.

"Better than Lovegood," he answered without thinking, wanting to say something to excuse his odd behavior. He felt he'd betrayed the Luna he knew and only looked sheepishly at his toes when Snape replied, "Indeed."

Snape handed him the books. "Table nine." When all the books had been passed out, he walked around to the chalk board and started writing in scratchy letters "COURSE AIMS." He turned back to the class. "Ultimately, _my_aim is to get through this year without any of you breaking anything too expensive to replace. As that is unlikely--and note, broken items will be billed to your tuition account--I will settle for not having my classroom demolished. _Your_aims, however, will be slightly different." As he continued to outline the goals for the term, Snape stood perfectly still, his arms folded over his chest. He then covered basic safety and procedure, then set them practice work to be done with their partners. "Quiet talking is acceptable. You have until the bell rings to finish the preview questions on page five." He sat at his desk and began to read from a thick book.

Finally free to talk, Draco hissed, "What are you doing?"

"My work."

"Not that. Sitting here."

Choosing not to answer, Harry said, "The answer to the first one is x10, I think."

Draco scowled.

The rest of class went by quickly. Harry and Draco finished their work second and turned it in to the order of, "Sit and read quietly."

Assuming his voice would be covered by the other people still working, Harry slid back into his seat and leaned towards Draco, who was flipping through his textbook, his chin on his fist, a coolly bored expression on his face. "We need to talk about something."

"Bugger off."

"It's really important. Please, can we meet after school?"

Draco glared at him, his eyes like ice. "Practice is after school."

"After practice, then?" he persisted.

"Only if you tell Snapeyou want to switch partners with Nott."

Harry looked at Luna. It wasn't that he had anything against her, and if she was anything like he'd dreamed her to be she would be at least interesting to spend a year with...but he had really wanted a less volatile partner in the class that he knew he would be the worst at. "I guess so," he finally agreed: he doubted anything would help his chemistry grade if he didn't catch on anyway. "I'll tell Snape Friday, at the beginning of class."

"Deal."

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Harry paid little attention to the homework discussion going on between Ron and Hermione concerning Cultures, and he avoided Pansy on the way to lunch--a move his friends appreciated.

"Any reason for the change of mind?" Ron asked as they sat down with their food.

Harry shrugged. "I talked to her yesterday and realized you guys were right. I don't know why I used to hang out with her before, and, based on what I saw, I don't know why I would want to start to now."

Harry ate his lunch without contributing much to the conversation. He was contemplating his coming talk with Draco. He wanted to know everything he could about the party and he was finally prepared to sacrifice for it. He was nervous about admitting his memory loss to Draco, but he hoped that fact that he could deliver up the person actually responsible for all of Draco's guilt would be worth some privacy.

The afternoon dragged much more slowly than the morning had. It was with a sense of gratitude that Harry trudged towards the soccer field after his last class. When he got to the equipment shed, he took out the balls, cones, and jerseys and went to set up the field. When he was done, he took the stat book out of his backpack and started flipping through it just to be doing something.

While practice ran, Harry focused on finishing a short essay Remus had assigned for the next day. Snape glared at him for his inattention, but didn't say anything. He might have been more annoyed had Harry's distraction not been school work.

Overall the real, Snape seemed less inclined to be rude towards him than the other one, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the fact that Lily was still alive.

When Snape blew the whistle and told everyone they could go, Draco lagged behind the rest, pretending to have trouble with the zipper on his dufflebag. When they were the only two left, he said quietly, "Meet me on the far side of the bleachers after everyone leaves."

"I could just pretend I need to see you about something in the stat book," Harry commented. He didn't want people to see him sneaking around and get the wrong idea.

"Or we could meet on purpose, since I would _obviously_ be the one you would stop to ask questions of. You know, because your best friend isn't on the team, or anything," he sneered sarcastically.

Harry scowled at him. "Fine. Just don't take too long getting changed." When Draco had disappeared into the locker room, Harry took out his key to the equipment shed and started putting things back--Snape had let him start keeping the key in case he couldn't be at the field when practice started. Pretended he had to organize the equipment, he stayed in there to avoid having to talk to the rest of the team as they left. Nearly twenty minutes passed before Ron and Colin, the last ones done changing, came out.

"Coming Harry?"

"Actually, Snape wants me to organize the shed. I'll be a while, so you guys go ahead. I'll just walk home."

"You sure?" Colin asked, peering at him unsettlingly. "It's awfully hot today."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Shrugging, Ron said, "All right. See you."

"Bye, Harry."

When they were gone, Harry stepped out of the shed and locked the door then walked around to the side of the bleachers that wasn't visible from the parking lot. He waited for ten minutes before Draco, showered and changed, strode towards him.

"Took your time, did you?"

"I let everyone else shower first so I'd be the last one here. Generosity takes time."

"Guess you'd know all about that," he said, unable to resist the jibe.

Sneering, Draco said, "You're the one who invited me to this little tea party."

"I know. Sorry. I'm just kinda tense."

Draco set his bag on the bleachers. "Don't want people seeing us together?"

Unwilling to admit that that was part of it, he said, "I don't care about that. But I wanted to ask you about...the party."

"What party?"

"The one from the night of the accident."

Draco's eyes darkened. "Why?"

"I talked to Pansy yesterday--"

"Oh, this will be good," he interrupted, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

Talking over him, Harry pressed, "And she admitted that the accident was her fault. Well, not that she was driving, but that she set up the thing with you...and Daniel." It felt odd to be having this sort of conversation, but he figured the easiest way to get it over with was to do it.

Draco scowled. "How'd she do that?"

"I don't know. Honestly..." he started. He stopped and took a deep breath. After a second he restated, "The night of the party is a little...fuzzy."

"Fuzzy? Fuzzy how?"

"Like, I don't remember much of it. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the injuries, but I just don't remember a lot of what led up to it."

Understanding dawning in Draco's eyes, he said, "I get it. Pansy dangled some tidbits and now you're all curious, so you came to me to find your answers."

Harry waited a moment before nodding slightly.

"And what if I say I'm not telling you anything? Let you wonder and suffer."

"If that's your answer, fine. But I don't think you'd do that. Not when I'm asking you to clarify your innocence in the whole matter."

Draco looked at him thoughtfully for several seconds. "Exactly how little do you remember?"

It was Harry's turn to glare. "Little enough to wonder about how all the events string together."

Frowning, Draco asked, "What do you want to know?"

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he wanted to throw Draco his last scrap of dignity, but he felt so close to finally getting an answer. Finally knowing who was responsible for all this annoyance and pain. "I want to know who was driving the car that night."

He looked offended. "Don't you think if I knew that I would have done something about it?" he growled.

"Who's it _likely_ to have been?"

Draco thought for a minute, his expression softening slowly. Quietly he said, "Harry, I wish I could tell you."

Feeling uncomfortable, Harry looked at the ground. Several seconds passed before he said, "There was no one I would have talked to if I was mad at you?"

"There were a couple guys you ran around with."

His stomach turning, Harry sneered, speaking before he could think better of it: "While I was with you?"

Draco smirked. "Conveniently forgot that part, too, did you?"

Heat rose in Harry's cheeks and he couldn't think of anything to say.

After a minute of silence, Draco said, "Of the guys I noticed at the party the only ones you spent any time with were Brandon and that Creevy freak."

"Colin?" he aske3d before he could stop himself.

"I don't understand it either," Draco answered lightly, raising his hands in front of him. "Not that I'm saying you were sleeping with him, or anything. But you did disappear with him a few times then not want to talk about it."

Harry glared at his shoes, his fists clenched at his sides. This was going from bad to worse and he wished he hadn't bothered pursuing the issue.

"Was that all you wanted?"

"Yeah," he said dejectedly.

"Well, while this has been amusing and...enlightening, I should get home. I have some things to take care of." Not waiting for a reply, Draco walked around Harry and disappeared around the far end of the bleachers.

Left alone, Harry wandered to the other side of the bleachers, sat on the step in front of the equipment shed, and rested his chin on his fist. He stayed there for several minutes, thinking. Once again he'd thought things were going to get easier and they'd only become more difficult. He knew Ron wasn't responsible for what happened. He couldn't say he remembered any Brandon. And then there was Colin....

Shaking his head, Harry stood up and went into the locker room to get his book bag. The walk home would give him time to clear his thoughts and decide what he was going to do about what he'd just learned.

Any questions Harry had about Colin could be cleared up easily enough by a call--Colin's phone number was conveniently located in his cell phone, just like the rest of the team members'. Despite this fact, Harry had a hard time deciding whether or not to call him. He almost wasn't sure he wanted to know what might have been the subject of their meetings....

**~~***~~**

"What did you get for number fourteen?" Hermione asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"I got twelve," Ron volunteered.

"I asked Harry," Hermione answered indifferently.

Harry looked at his homework page. He had twelve as well....

One of the most difficult things about class work, he was finding, was that Hermione consulted with him frequently when there were discrepencies. Apparently he used to be do very well at math and chemistry, and no matter how often Harry commented that he couldn't remember the formulas they had learned last year, she still seemed to think he would have the right answers.

"I haven't done that one yet," he lied, covering his paper with his book.

"The back of the book says twenty-four," she continued, flipping pages, "but I keep getting nineteen."

Ron scrubbed at his page with a blunt pencil eraser and scribbled in Hermione's answer.

Harry did so as well, as discretely as possible.

"I'll ask about it tomorrow." Closing the book, Hermione leaned back and shook her head, then looked up at the sky. They were sitting on the lawn beside the track behind the school. All the sports practices had been canceled for teacher meetings and Ron and Harry had only talked Hermione into going out to a movie if they finished their homework first.

"Are you both done?"

Stuffing his paper in his bag, Ron said, "Yep. Just need to check that one problem, right?"

Harry, too, hid his mostly blank paper and stood up. "Yeah, let's go."

Shouldering their school bags, the trio started down the sidewalk away from the school. Ron started talking about Fred and George's getting an appartment--they were looking around London for a place they could afford--and how that would clear out some space at home.

"You'll be bored, just Percy and you," Hermione commented.

"Not so much. I'll get the bigger bedroom."

Harry watched the cars driving by. He supposed he might ask his friends about Colin. They were team mates...it wasn't so strange that he should have spent time with him when he was angry with Draco. They were probably better friends here than in the dream. That was all.

"So, have either of you heard much about Colin?" he ventured. "He hasn't been hanging out after practice as much any more."

Ron made a disbelieving sound and shook his head. "I don't know what's up with Creepy, but he's getting creepier by the day. Yesterday I saw him talking to Vince Crabbe. I mean, what the hell would they be hanging out for?" It was unlike Ron to use Colin's nickname--one given to him by Draco and used by few teammates. It was a mark of great annoyance.

Hermione huffed knowingly but didn't say anything.

After a moment Ron said, "Oh, go on. What do you know that we don't?"

"Only that Colin Creevy might not be the best person to be around. I was by the head's office waiting to pick up my transcripts and I saw him waiting to go in."

"Maybe he was getting transcripts, too," Harry suggested more diplomatically than he felt.

"I doubt it. He looked kinda shaky."

"He's been kinda shaky for months," Ron retorted. "I think he's been getting into a few things he shouldn't be. Mind, it's not my business--"

"He's on your team, Ron," Hermione snapped. "Whether you do the same stupid things he is or not, you two are connected and it will look bad for_ everyone_ when he gets caught."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but, recalling the conversation at the pizza parlor, he said, "So you guys really think he'd be involved with drugs?"

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "Or something ridiculous."

Finally daring to ask a direct question, Harry said, "I didn't spend a lot of extra time with him, did I? You know, before the accident."

They were both quiet for several seconds.

"I mean, guys, you know me. I wouldn't do something like that. But, you know, maybe I knew something then."

"It's possible," Ron started doubtfully, "but I can't see you risking anything to get into drugs. It takes someone with real issues to do that stuff."

_Someone hiding a gay relationship with a team mate who also happens to be a public rival?_Harry pushed the thought away as quickly as it came. If he was getting high with Colin Creevy to drown his stress and sorrows over a secret boyfriend he would rather not know.

With a firm determination that he was no longer the person he was before the accident--whatever crazy things that person might have done--Harry decided to stop pursuing the mystery of how the accident happened. He finally realized that he didn't care as much as he might. He was a different person and that was all that mattered.

_Isn't that what Dumbledore said? If I want to be that person, look for him. Well, I did, and now that I know more about him I don't want to be him any more._ Pleased with his resolution, Harry turned the conversation to the movie they were about to see and did his best to forget all about Colin, Draco, and Pansy.

TBC

**~~***~~**

There you go. And on Christmas Eve there will be some big chapters.... Interesting chapters, I think. ^_^

And a note about Colin.... When I introduced him I knew he was going to be different from the books, but it wasn't until I was about at the beginning of this section that I realized how different I was making him. Some of you are no doubt wondering if Colin really was into pastimes of the less than legal kind.... I'd like to be mysterious and tell you you'll find out in later chapters, but I didn't end up exploring it due to some twists in the plot.... -_- This isn't a substance abuse drama anyway.... Think what you like about Colin. If you don't like the drug angle, maybe he's the victim of extreme bullying from Crabbe which has changed his personality....


	13. In Which Neville Suffers

I want you all to think of this section as part of the next one (that's why I posted them together). There was really no good place to break it right in the middle, so this one is extra short and then next is extra long. I might have just said forget it and broken it somewhere else, but there's a natural suspense factor I wanted to encourage.

Oh, and as this is part of my Happy Generic Winter Holiday post, I'll say it here: Merry/Happy [inert holiday name here] to everyone! And a Happy New Year, because pretty much everyone celebrates that one together.... To the Chinese (and other) viewers, Happy early New Year. ^_^*

I got to play with Snape some more in the next two chapters and was exceedingly pleased because of it. I haven't thought of my title for this chapter as of writing this note, but I'm afraid I won't be able to work "Snape" into it with any meaning.... Oh well. Maybe next time.

Hope you enjoy and please review: I love hearing what you guys think.

**~~***~~**

Harry's desire to try to discover who he was melted away easily as time pressed on: there was too much else for him to think about and what happened before the accident seemed to lose all importance. The only thing about that time period he now wished he could remember was school work. He was struggling in several classes, but determined to work his way through.

School in general brought an entirely new dynamic to Harry's missing memory, though, and socializing was proving to be a bit of trouble. One particular incident took place nearly three weeks after his conversation with Ron and Hermione, bringing a fresh sense of loathing towards his old self.

Walking down the sports corridor from the locker rooms after practice on Thursday, Harry stopped when he heard the distinct sounds of whimpering. Curious, he peeked around the corner towards the girls' locker room and was instantly angered at what he saw.

Huddled in a corner were three boys--Seamus, Nott, and another Harry didn't know. They had a chubby girl pinned to the wall.

"Hey," Harry called, stepping out. "Leave her alone!"

The three boys laughed cruelly. Nott took a casual step towards Harry as though he were going to let a friend in on a hilarious joke. As the circle around the girl loosened Harry saw that it wasn't a girl at all. It was Neville in one of the girls' uniforms. His round face was red and streaked with tears. Harry felt sick.

"We found her in the boys' locker room," Nott explained in the same joking way, entirely unconcerned with the fact that Harry had found them. "Figured he found his way in by mistake. Ah, the poor gender confused children of this generation."

His resolve to leave Neville to his own devices strained beyond breaking by this new abuse, Harry said, barely controlling his shaking fists, "Leave him alone."

The three laughed again. Not cruelly, but as though Harry had told the punch line of the joke.

"I'm serious, Nott. Seamus. Let him go."

The laughter stopped and Seamus eyed Harry closely. "We're only having some fun."

"Fun?"

Obviously sensing that they had gone too far, Nott said, "Come on," and started to walk past Harry. "He's all yours."

Neville whimpered even more pitifully.

After a moment Seamus and the other boy followed, each looking at Harry strangely.

Harry worked hard not to look directly at Neville, embarrassed for both of them. He wanted to say something to help, but couldn't help feeling that his presence was only making the situation worse: Neville seemed to look longingly after his tormentors, as though he was a mouse taken from a playful kitten only to be handed to a hungry cat.

Still not looking at the other boy, Harry cast about for something useful and finally said, "You should tell Snape, or something."

"I-I don't want to start trouble," Neville answered, sniffling.

Once more thinking of the other Neville--_his _Neville--Harry felt ill. Even at his worst, Neville wouldn't have stood for this kind of treatment. He would have at least told McGonagall. "Then _I'll _tell Snape," he stated.

Neville seemed to want to say something but in the end remained silent, so Harry asked, "Do you have something to change into?"

"They threw my clothes in the girls' locker room," he whispered, fresh tears streaming down his face.

Harry sighed and marched by Neville. There shouldn't be anyone in there.... "Hello?" he called, just to be safe. When there was no answer he went in. Neville's uniform was slumped by the far wall in a crumbled ball. Picking it up, feeling strange being some place he so severely should not have been, Harry retreated.

"Here."

Neville took the offered clothes, refusing to look at anything higher than his own bare feet.

"I'm telling Snape," Harry reaffirmed. "You can change in the team lockers. No one's in there now." Feeling awkward, he walked down the hall, back towards the door to the quad. Fortunately enough, Snape's office in the science building had been Harry destination anyway: he was supposed to go there for his extra help session.

When he reached Snape's office, Harry knocked firmly, his walk only serving to give him time to grow more annoyed.

"Enter."

Pushing the door open, Harry started right in, "You have to say something to Seamus and Nott."

Snape, who had been grading tests, looked up with bemused interest, one eyebrow raised. "Do I, indeed?"

Now faced with the man, Harry felt less bold, but the injustice that burned in his gut fueled a passionate explanation. Trying to save Neville some embarrassment, he left out what the boys had done exactly, in favor of the general term "bullying," though it hardly conveyed the severity of the situation.

"That is nothing new, as you know very well, Potter." Snape peered back down at the paper in from of him boredly. "Get out your book."

"It's out of hand," he replied, stubbornly holding his ground by the office door. "They're on your team."

"I am a chemistry teacher, not a soccer coach. They are on Draco Malfoy's team." Pointing his pen at Harry, he amended, "They are on _your_ team. _You_ get them under control. So long as no one has been bodily injured, I do not see a need for intervention. Now sit and take out your book."

Balling his fists at his sides, thinking--probably rightly--that he should have gone to Remus instead, Harry glared at Snape. He dropped his book on the man's desk carelessly and sat in the chair across from him. "Yeah, stupid of me to think you might actually do anything useful."

Looking up again, Snape said coolly, "I took this tutoring responsibility as a favor to your mother. Do not make me regret it more than I already do."

They stared at each other for several seconds then Snape went back to grading. Harry opened his book to the day's assignment and started working the problems as well as he could.

Half an hour passed before Snape shuffled the tests to the side and said, "Let me see what you've done."

Pushing his notebook away, Harry looked out the window and waited.

"Well you've managed to remember a little of what I told you last week. You still have these three wrong though. Try them again, and try actually paying attention to what you are doing this time."

His anger and annoyance with the man made Harry incapable of acknowledging that he had, indeed, rushed through the problems, but a second reading revealed the things he had missed at first. Two of his new answers were correct, he had done the division wrong on the third.

"If you concentrated a little more you would not be having any of the problems you seem to be encountering."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, his emotions cooled and numb from almost an hour of chemistry work.

Snape looked at him for a moment. "Other than that, you are fairly close to your usual work. You may leave, unless you have specific questions."

Pushing chemistry away from his mind easily, Harry shook his head and stood. "Good night, sir." He did not expect a response nor wait for one, leaving and closing the door quickly.

**~~***~~**

The following day Harry was sitting on the bench by the soccer field filling out the roster page for the weekend's game. It was all he really had to do while the team practiced and it gave him an excuse not to look at Snape, who stood a short distance off, watching the boys.

When Draco called practice and everyone started towards the locker room, Snape yelled, "Nott, Finnigan!"

Harry looked at Snape for a moment then grabbed the mesh bag to collect the soccer balls. It occurred to him that Snape knowing about the incident with Neville would mean one of two things: Neville told on them, or Harry did. Either way, it wasn't going to be pretty.

Putting himself far enough away as to be inconspicuous, Harry finished his duties quickly, locked the equipment away in the shed, and started towards the locker room to meet Ron just as Snape was dismissing Seamus and Nott from their meeting by the bench. As the two drew level with Harry he tensed and listened to their low-voiced conversation:

"This sucks."

"Who'd you think told him?" Seamus demanded.

With a sigh, Harry stopped walking so they could catch up with him. He might as well save the trouble, because if they tried to get back at Neville he would only feel responsible to step in again.

"Hey," he said casually, turning towards them. "What did Snape want?"

They stopped walking and looked at him. Seamus said, "Nothing too much. Nott and I just have to work on the orientation project next month."

His brow furrowing, Harry asked, "Orientation project?"

Nott sneered, "Apparently they want more than poncy honor society twerps on it this year and he volunteered us."

Still not sure what this orientation thing they were talking about was, Harry merely said, "Oh." Had Snape actually used discretion and not mentioned Neville or Harry in this round-about punishment?

"Made some comment about how we seemed to have plenty of time on our hands, so we'd be perfect for it."

Adopting a sympathetic smile, Harry said, "That's rough."

Nott swore under his breath and continued towards the building.

"I'm really surprised he didn't volunteer you," Seamus said as he and Harry began walking as well. "You don't really need to be around so much. No offense."

"None taken." Despite his gratitude at being left out of the mix, Harry wondered if the punishment would accomplish anything where Neville was concerned, but figured it didn't matter. The project sounded as though it would keep the two busy and Neville really did need to learn to look after himself.

Harry walked towards the equipment shed, parting ways with Seamus. When everything was put away, he went into the locker room and crossed to the row of lockers closest to the door into the school. He opened his, taking out his school bag.

Chuckling, Ron came up behind him. "D'you hear about Teddy and Seamus?"

For a moment Harry forgot who Teddy was, then remembered that that was what most of the team called Nott when they weren't using his last name instead. It was used about as often and in the same tone as they called Colin "Creepy."

"Yeah. The project thing." He closed his locker. "What is it, exactly?"

"About six extra hours on campus a week for the next month and half," he scoffed quietly. "They must've done something to piss someone off."

As they left the musky room, Harry said, "Seriously, I don't know what the orientation project is."

"Oh," Ron said with surprise. "It's a welcome thing for the first years. Usually a skit and some presentations about classes, clubs, and school services. It's put on at Parent's weekend in November."

Deciding that their fate was one well earned, Harry pushed away any guilt he might have felt and said, "Sounds boring."

Ron laughed. "It is."

Harry grinned and they started making plans for the weekend. He did feel a little like he should talk to Neville but ultimately decided it would be for the best to leave him alone. Any attention from Harry would draw attention from others and he was sure Neville wouldn't be able to handle it.

However, even as he told Ron about the new CD he wanted to go to the mall to buy, Harry was distracted by thoughts of Snape. _Good of him, really,_ Harry mused, _to keep me out of trouble like that._ He felt a little bad for being rude to him the previous day.

**~~***~~**

"Harry?"

Lifting his head, Harry stared at Remus blandly. He hadn't been paying any attention and he was sure he was in for some kind of lecture: even Remus must have expended all of his patience by now. "Sorry. I'm just not really into this right now."

"'Into this?'" Remus asked with raised eyebrows.

Harry sighed and closed his book.

Almost two weeks had passed since the Neville incident and his relationship with (read: "tolerance of") Snape had improved enough that the help sessions were becoming useful: his chemistry grade was a bit above fair. No matter how much effort he put into them, however, he just couldn't get the hang of his other classes.

Civics was proving to be one of the most difficult subjects and he was embarrassed both because it should have been easy to remember some names and dates, and because Remus kept working so hard to help him: they had been having review sessions every night for the past week in an effort to pull up his quickly plummeting grade. Tonight they were reviewing for the coming test, but Harry couldn't concentrate.

"Harry, you need to do well on this test. It's all review material."

Not needing reminding about his falling marks, Harry glared at his book cover and replied, "I know. I just have a lot going on."

"Is this something you should talk to your parents about?"

"No. I just need time to think." Rather, he needed time to not think. Harry wished he could go out to the pitch and fly around for a bit, or sneak off to the Room of Requirement to throw around some hexes to let off some steam. Even the idea of kicking a soccer ball had merit, little though it may be.

Remus was frowning, his brown eyes tired and disappointed. "I don't want to pressure you, but this is the time to set your path for the rest of the year. If you don't pick up your grade soon I'll have to give you failing marks when reports come out in December. You promised me you would work hard at this."

"I know," Harry answered automatically. He was really starting to prefer Snape's straight forward taunting to Remus's guilt trips.

"I know this sounds like useless advice, but whatever you have on your mind, don't let it get to you. Take your time, do what you know you need to, and everything will work out."

Everything would work out? Harry had a hard time believing that. Despite the improvements he was making on homework and tests, chemistry class work and labs were a disaster because of his partnership with Luna Lovegood. He wanted to ask to trade partners, but as everyone else was paired up, he doubted Snape would let him.

Most of his classes were just as difficult, and there seemed to be no end to Lily and James' special brand of encouragement which only served to make Harry feel stupid and guilty for doing so poorly. Truth be told, he was failing Algebra and his technical classes, and was just barely passing Civics. Aside from chemistry, Composition and Life were the only classes he didn't seem to be having a hard time in.

It was a mark of Harry and Snape's new-found understanding of one another that the man hadn't kept his word to remove him from managing the team if he grades weren't high enough--he was giving Harry until reports came out to raise everything to passing.

Remus sighed and shifted in his chair. "Why don't you answer the study questions at the end of the chapter while I grade some quizzes, then we'll go over them. Make sure to look up the answers if you need to."

Sighing, Harry opened his book and started reading. He fidgeted, tapping his pencil until Remus stopped his grading and sighed again. "Sorry."

Focusing on the work in front of him, Harry looked up answers and copied sentences from the text without absorbing much of the information. He knew he wasn't learning anything, but all he could think about was flying. He wanted to grab Ron and play a one-to-one game of Quidditch until dinner....

Half an hour passed before Remus set his pen down and asked, "Just about done?"

"Yeah. I just have one more to do then I'll be set."

"Good," the man replied, smiling encouragingly.

Harry felt a little bad as he finished copying the answer and closed his book. "Can I go outside for a while?" He might not have a Snitch, but there were several dusty soccer balls in the garage. He might as well try one out.

"Sure. Take a break while I look over your work. I'll come get you when I'm done."

Without waiting for Remus to change his mind, Harry jumped out of his seat and half-ran towards the garage. Taking one of the balls by the inside door, he ducked back through the house and out the back door. He had played around with soccer a couple times when he knew no one was looking, but he was too embarrassed to play with Ron or any of his other friends who knew him as the "star center."

Dropping the ball at his feet, Harry dribbled a little. It was an awkward motion he couldn't believe he'd ever really done before, but he found a rhythm after a few minutes and managed not to kick the ball away from himself too frequently. It wasn't flying, but it did seem to be helping the tension in his neck.

"Harry?"

Looking up at his father's voice, Harry let the ball roll into the low bushes by the far edge of the lawn. "Yeah?"

Stepping out of the house, James looked after the ball for a moment before saying, "I just wanted to let you know we're home and that dinner's in the kitchen. We picked up pizza."

"OK. Thanks. I'll be right in." Jogging after the ball, Harry picked it up and went inside. He dropped the ball in the garage carelessly and went to the kitchen where Remus and his parents were piling pizza onto their plates.

"Good job with those questions, Harry," Remus commented.

Lily smiled approvingly.

Feeling guilty at the praise, Harry ducked between them and took a slice of pizza. His parents weren't entirely aware of his class work situation. Snape had made sure Lily knew about his chemistry grade, both when it dropped and as it rose, but other than that, she thought he was just taking a little extra time to get his bearings--Harry dreaded bring home his reports.

Harry watched his parents in silence. They were so blissfully unaware of everything. He clenched his fist in anger and annoyance.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Lily's voice was light, but her eyes probed her son's face with a suspicious glint.

"I had a big snack when I got home." It was a lie and Harry was nervous that Remus, who had brought him home, would reveal it, but it was the first excuse that came to mind.

Remus watched Harry with concern, but did not correct him.

He set the pizza down untouched. "I'll have something later. After I finish the rest of my homework."

"All right."

Harry left the room and closed the door behind him. Stalking upstairs, he opened his door more roughly than he meant to, slamming it into the wall. With an annoyed growl, he marched to his bed and threw himself down on it. Tears of frustration stung his eyes.

"Harry?"

At his name, Harry sat up and faced the wall, scrubbing his eyes guiltily as Remus walked into the room. A warm, firm hand rested on his shoulder and he shrugged it off.

"Harry--"

"Go away."

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," Harry snapped, still not looking at the man.

Several seconds of silence passed. "I just came up to say bye and tell you to keep up the good work. If you need anything, you know you can call me."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he whispered. His cheeks burned with humiliation. Soft footsteps left the room, the door latch clicked, and Harry was alone. He sat by himself for an hour, the sunlight sliding across his floor and down his wall until it was gone. There was a soft glow of moonlight above the bed when he finally lied down, his eyes closed against it.

**~~***~~**

Footsteps woke him from his drowsing. They were barely audible and did not come with the warning of the door opening.

Sure it was his father, Harry rolled towards the wall as a fresh wave of grief and humiliation rose to consume him. He planned to pretend he was sleeping, but it was ruined when the person spoke:

"Shit. It really is you."

Sitting up quickly, Harry turned and snapped on the bedside lamp without even having to look at it. He knew who that was....

TBC

**~~***~~**

Some review responses:

Failing Mentality- First of all, thank you and I like your screen name. It's kinda cute in a strange way--and now I'm worried that you have Alzimers and I've just insulted you... -_-* --I think because you actually bothered to capitalize it where so many people don't... [looking sheepishly at my own screen name]

Second, you touched on one of the most difficult choices I made when I wrote this: how British should it be? I debated endlessly and edited several sections repeatedly back and forth until I decided that a consistant inconsistancy would be better than inconsistant consistancy. I could see myself keeping the vocabulary correct for football/soccer, then messing up on the money, school, or some political comment.... I actually had a very big problem with this in the scene where Sirius and James are talking about Harry earning money vs getting pocket money for nothing. I didn't feel right using dollars, but I wasn't sure what would have been appropriate-sounding...pounds, I'm sure, would have been fine, but I wanted it to flow smoothly and I didn't know what would have the same conversational flow. Ultimately I opted to stay away from anything I wasn't completely sure off, but I did discover that I accidently used "bucks" to describe money at one point. I didn't notice until I'd posted it.... Either way, thank you very much for pointing it out; you were the first to do so and I wondered when it was going to happen. ^_^

As a completely side note, I sometimes wonder if I put too much effort into fan fiction. I _almost _do more research for my fan fiction than I do for my actual writing.... I think I feel a responsibility to the author of the orginial work. They work so hard to build their incredible worlds and I feel like I owe them intellectual dues for playing in it. But it makes me so happy when I hear reviews about how cannon the characters are, or how "realistic" the plot seems.... I think fan fiction is one of the greatest ways a person can show how much they love the characters and setting an author puts together, and I like to think I might be saying "thank you!" in some effective way. Kinda corny.... [sigh]


	14. In Which Draco is Reintroduced

There really was no good place to split chapters 13 and 14, but it was too long for one thing.... Anyway, I hope you enjoy this section. It picks up immediately where the last one finished.

**~~***~~**

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry asked, glaring at Draco Malfoy. Didn't his parents know better than to...let Draco.... Wait. There was something different about him.... Black wizard robes.... Harry paled even as the other boy spoke.

"Manners, Potter. I'd think you'd be glad to see me after being stuck in this place for so long." Draco smirked.

Several emotions swirled inside Harry. Confusion, grief, anger, hatred, fear, and--the one he chose to latch onto--denial. "You aren't here," he said, deathly calm.

"What?"

"I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating."

Draco glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you insane?"

Harry nodded, his eyes wide. "Yes. Maybe. Now leave."

"What?" he asked again, staring as Harry moved frantically around the room like a terrified, yet caged, bird.

"I don't know why you're here, but go away."

Placing one hand on his hip and speaking with the tone of an adult explaining something to an especially stupid child, Draco said, "I'm here to bring you home."

"No. I am home." Harry started for the door. "Mom! Dad!" he called, a hint of panic at the back of his voice.

Draco blocked his way, taking his wand out of his robes. "No yelling now. I _will_ hex you," he warned. "I only said I'd collect you, not that I would do so gently."

Reacting instinctively, Harry reached for his own wand where he always kept it in his front pocket. When he found the pocket empty and realized what he'd tried to do, he shook his head violently from side to side.

Sneering, Draco gestured around the room and asked, "What? You want to stay here?"

_No,_ he thought, startled at the realization. But he didn't want to hurt Sirius or his parents by leaving again. "Please leave."

Lily's voice suddenly rose from down the hall. "Harry? Did you call me?"

"Send her away, Potter," Draco warned coolly. "She doesn't need to be involved in this."

Eyeing the wand and recalling the last time he'd seen it, Harry thought a moment before calling back to his mother, "No, Mom. Everything's fine."

When he was sure she wouldn't come anyway, Harry asked quietly, "Why are you here really?" At the memory of Dumbledore's murder, Harry's mind sharpened, his eyes narrowed and wary. Even if he was dreaming again, there had to be a reason Draco Malfoy, of all people, would come for him. "Who told you to come?" he clarified.

With an amused light in his eyes, Draco replied, "Snape. And the Dark Lord. But not for what you think."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been here for little over five months, as best as we could determine. A lot has happened since you went away. I'll explain some of it, if you like, but you'll have to sit down and convince me you aren't going to do anything stupid while I do."

Harry thought a moment. He was unarmed and his parents, vulnerable and unsuspecting, were right downstairs. There was nothing he could do for himself or them. He sat in his desk chair and waited.

"Let's start with your disappearance. There was a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade while you were there. You were meeting members of the Order to be escorted away from the school. Yes," Draco interjected, seeing the surprise on Harry's face, "I know about the Order. Mostly because I'm a member of it."

"Impossible!"

"Keep down the volume, if you don't mind," Draco admonished, glaring. "When the attack happened you were hit with a curse. It knocked you down. A minute later, you were gone. No one saw if you got up and left, or if someone took you. The Dark Lord was furious because he was sure he'd finally gotten you. Your friends thought so, too. The Order members came out and the Death Eaters retreated when they realized you weren't there any more. As far as anyone knows, you turned back up an hour or so after you disappeared. You were unconscious on the ground right where you'd fallen after being hit by the curse. Some people found you and brought you to Hogwarts."

As Harry listened, memories flooded his mind. He remembered the attack. He remembered the conversation he'd been having with Ron and Hermione. They were on their way to the Hogshead...they were going to meet up with Ginny to travel to the Burrow.... "How do you know all this?"

Seeming to relax, Draco stopped pacing and explained, "I was briefed when I was sent after you, but that part comes later. Going back to you being unconscious. You woke up a few hours later. Apparently, you thought you were in a car accident, or something. For weeks you had to be confined in one of the bedrooms at the Order's headquarters because you'd go into hysterics every time someone tried to talk to you. It wasn't safe to bring you to a hospital. Snape gave you some potions and eventually you adjusted, but your magic abilities were gone. It was about that time that I officially joined the Order. They kept you hidden away and wouldn't let me see you for a while. When I did finally get to talk to you, you were very...strange."

Harry's face turned red as he thought about Draco kissing him in the church. Had that happened to this Draco, too?

"A couple more months passed and there was a raid on Order headquarters. In the fighting you got lost again. Everyone thought you disappeared again and waited to see if you'd pop back up like before. Snape and I learned at our next Death Eater meeting that you'd been taken in the confusion. At first the Dark Lord was ecstatic. Then he saw you and was furious. Said something about it not really being you." Draco shrugged a little. "I, of course, reported to the Order as soon as I could and they started investigating. The Dark Lord formed a plan first, but as Snape and I were both spying by then, the Order knew about it almost as soon as he made it. He deduced what had happened and started looking for you. He used his connection to you--" Draco looked at Harry forehead-- "to locate you. When he finally found you, I convinced the Dark Lord I should be the one to fetch you."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, shaking his head disbelievingly. "This other Harry. It's the one that belongs here, right?"

Draco nodded.

"But how did we trade places? And where, exactly, is here?"

"Snape explained it...something about parallel realities. He suggested that something traumatic happened to both of you at once. You both started to die at the same time, but something must have happened to bring you back. The only problem was, you got confused when you were going back to where you were supposed to be. His spirit, for lack of better word, went to Hogsmeade and yours came here. Or something like that."

"So, is he still with Voldemort?" Harry didn't know why, but he couldn't help but believe this story. It was too real. Too convincing, even its amazing nature.

"Yeah. That's where the plan gets complicated. The Dark Lord suspects that when you return to the wizarding world, the other Harry will automatically be returned here, and that you'll go into your body, which he possesses. McGonagall, on the other hand, thinks there'll just be two Harrys there and none here."

"Professor McGonagall is probably right. This is still my body," Harry stated with certainty. The broken arm, the scar still connecting him to Voldemort.... It _couldn't_ be a different body.

Draco nodded. "If not, it would make no sense for me to be able to come here and not take the place of the me that's here. So what the Order had me do was take the potion to come here, and come sooner than the Dark Lord planned. I'm to get you and bring you to the Order--"

"What about the other Harry?"

"I was getting there," Draco said. "When you get back, Snape and I are going to rescue the other you and bring him back here."

Thinking of James and Lily, Harry asked quietly, "What if something happens to him, though?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, then said slowly, "I think the plan is for you to be with us when we get him, so just don't let anything happen."

"How do I even know you're telling the truth? You could be working just for Voldemort."

"I could," he agreed with a slight nod. "Snape sent me with this to prove myself to you." Draco withdrew a small vial of clear liquid from his sleeve. "Veratiserum. I'll drink some and you can make sure I'm not lying."

"That could be water," Harry countered, feeling like Mad Eye. _Constant vigilance!_

"It could be. That's why you're going to take some, too. I'll go first, then you can confirm that it really is Veratiserum." Without waiting, Draco swallowed a little more than half the potion. A second passed then he said, "Ask me anything."

"Are you really working for the Order?"

"Yes. I have been a spy for the Order since the end of August."

"Have you seen the other Harry?"

"Yes."

"And he's still alive and well?"

"I wouldn't call him well, but he is alive and not overly harmed. He'll be fine once we retrieve him and erase his memories of the wizarding world."

Harry sighed. "All right. Now my turn, huh?"

Draco nodded.

Taking the last of the potion in one gulp, Harry waited, suddenly realizing how stupid he was being. Draco could ask him anything and he would have to answer.

"I'm going to ask you a very personal question," Draco announced, a slight smirk on his face. "Something you wouldn't normally answer so you can be sure the potion is working. Now let me see.... Why were you so up set when I got here? I _did _hear you crying."

Humiliation coloring his features, Harry fought himself as he said, "I was scared about disappointing my parents."

"How so?"

"I've been getting really bad marks at school." It sounded ridiculous and childish now that he knew his troubles of Voldemort and Death Eaters still existed. Why had his civics grade seemed like such a big deal?

"I'll refrain from commenting," Draco announced, his self-satisfied smirk taunt enough. "But now that you know I'm telling the truth, are you ready to go?"

"What? Now?"

"I didn't plan on spending the night."

Harry stared at his hands. He did want to go back and see everyone. To see Ginny.... But what about James, Lily, and Sirius? He couldn't go without saying goodbye to them. And what if something _did_ happen to the other Harry? "I can't go tonight," Harry said firmly.

Draco frowned.

"Come back tomorrow."

"I can't just pop in and out like it's nothing, Potter."

"I have to do a couple things before I leave." He didn't expect Draco to understand about his parents, so he didn't try to explain. "You can stay here, if you like. Mom and Dad don't come in here unless I ask them to."

Harry's tone conveyed the fact that it was not up to any farther discussion and, with an annoyed sigh, Draco nodded his agreement.

"I'm going out for a while," Harry stated, standing. "I'll bring you up something to eat when I get back."

"Don't bother. I had dinner before I came."

With a sigh, Harry walked out of the room and down the hall. As he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he believed this was really happening, but if it was, there were a few things he had to do. If he never saw his parents again, and if something happened and he couldn't bring back their son for them, he could at least give them one last memory with him.

Walking into the living room where James and Lily were watching TV, he stopped. A lump formed in his throat and he fought the urge to run out of the room.

"Is everything OK, honey?"

"Yeah. I just thought it would be fun if we did something."

James's brow furrowed. "Something like what?"

"I don't know. We haven't visited Sirius is a long time."

A concerned expression crossed Lily's face. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Forcing a smile, Harry nodded. "Of course. I'm just a little stressed. I thought an evening relaxing would help me unwind. I have a couple tests tomorrow and I could use a break from studying."

Smiling in return, Lily said, "So that's what you've been doing all this time. I don't see why you couldn't take a bit of a break." James mumbled something about "the game" as Lily took the remote control and turned the TV off.

The three discussed their plans and settled on going for ice cream and inviting Sirius, Remus, and Peter. "I'll call everyone," James volunteered, reaching for the phone. "Where did we want to go?"

"There's that nice place on South Street. The one with the patio."

"OK."

While James spoke on the phone, Harry sat beside Lily. He could not believe he'd ever been annoyed with her for anything and just wanted to stay beside her forever. Swallowing thickly, he made his voice as normal as he could and asked, "Do you have to go to work tomorrow?"

She nodded. "But it's an early day. I think I might be able to make a big dinner. What do you want?"

"Spaghetti. And some of that garlic bread you make."

"OK." Lily smiled warmly.

After a second he said quietly, "But I don't know if I'll be here for it. I have plans for the weekend."

"There'll be leftovers." She smoothed his hair away from his face.

Harry felt sick.

Setting the phone down, James said, "They're going to meet us over there in half an hour. I'm gonna get changed."

Harry watched his father walk casually out of the room and felt that he already missed him.

**~~***~~**

Peter laughed thickly, trying not to spit out his ice cream at Sirius's imitation of Snape. James scoffed, earning a glare from Lily, and Harry laughed effortlessly.

"That's him exactly!" Peter choked.

As the laughter died down, conversation turned to lighter things such as Sirius's now-painted motorcycle, James's recent work endeavors, and Remus's Christmas vacation plans to visit his grandmother. Even Peter's recounting of his work day full of inept interns (he worked as a clerk at a law firm) made Harry's gut twist with regret: he'd actually started to see the man as a part of the extended family, albeit, a less adored part than Sirius or Remus. Listening to them all, Harry smiled, grateful for their presence even as his heart broke at the thought of leaving them.

Hours faded like minutes and far too soon Harry was following his parents back into the house. James yawned widely.

"Are you going to bed?" Harry asked with noticeable disappointment.

"It's nearly midnight," was James's answer.

"I hoped we could watch a movie or something."

"Not tonight, kid," the man said, running his fingers through his hair. "How 'bout tomorrow?"

Harry nodded slowly, knowing it would not happen.

"Good night, honey," Lily said, kissing him on the cheek.

"'Night, Mum," he answered, kissing her in return. He turned and hugged his father. "Good night, Dad."

James smiled the same awkward smile he had when Harry first hugged him all those months ago. "'Night."

Regretfully, Harry hiked up the stairs. He had nearly forgotten that Draco was in his room so he jumped when he opened the door and found his light on and someone reading a book at his desk.

"Out late for a school night, huh?"

"We just went out for ice cream," Harry answered, saddened that he hadn't found the room empty and Draco's appearance just a figment of his imagination.

"That's what was so important that we couldn't leave?"

Without answering, Harry took the extra blanket off the foot of his bed and tossed at Draco. "You can curl up in a corner somewhere, if you want."

Sneering with distain, Draco replied, "I don't think so." Taking out his wand, he waved it and a wide, low bed with satin pillows and thick blankets appeared in the space between Harry's bed and desk. "There."

"If my parents come in--"

"Then lock your door. I'm not sleeping on the floor."

With a sigh, Harry went and locked his door, then dressed for bed. He already felt like he was back at Hogwarts. Here he was, sharing his room and arguing with Draco Malfoy. It all came too easily and felt too familiar. Part of him still hoped he was hallucinating, and that eventually this Draco and his stupid, plushy bed would disappear.

Crawling into bed, Harry lied awake for nearly an hour. He shifted as he listened to Draco's slow, even breaths. Could this all be made up? It could be. He wanted to get out of bed and run away. He wanted to go anywhere that Hogwarts couldn't find him and stay there until he forgot such a place ever existed.

**~~***~~**

"_Then_ she started yelling about how I never do anything. Is that ungrateful or what?" Ron demanded indignantly.

Hermione ignored him as she read her history text and Harry hung on every word. It was true he'd still have his Ron and his Hermione when he returned, but these ones were so care-free and easy-going. They weren't worried or scared all the time. He could relax with them--if he could relax at all after the morning he'd had....

In the confusion with Draco, Harry had forgotten to set his alarm and over slept. Lily had come banging on the door wondering why he wasn't up for breakfast, and then why the door was locked, and then why Harry wouldn't open it for her. Unable to give any satisfactory answers, Harry had simply yelled that it was private and he would be done in a moment.

Fortunately or not, James had been coming into the hallway. "He's a teenage boy, Lils. Let him have a bit of privacy."

Mortified at the innuendo in his father's voice, Harry had dressed, doing his best not to look at Draco, who was smirking like a contented cat from the folds of his comforter.

Once the threat of his mother discovering Draco was gone, Harry had been able to realize that Draco was, indeed, still there. The ramifications of said fact hit him hard and the other boy's jibes about his insistence upon going to school that day caused Harry to snap, "If you're so fucking impatient, go back without me!"

For a moment Draco had seemed to consider it, then he said, "You've changed."

Without a proper response, Harry had said, "Meet me at the school at five. Eldwood Academy. You should be able to find it. I'll tell my parents I'm spending the weekend with Ron. That'll give us a couple solid days before they notice they haven't got a son."

Draco had nodded.

Sitting with Ron and Hermione, Harry had a chance to observe how easily he'd believed Draco. He sort of wanted to give them a buffer, just in case things didn't work out, or if he was going crazy and they found him in a ditch on Monday raving about Voldemort.

"Well, I should get to class," Hermione said, pushing her book into her bag. "Professor Snape wants to see me about my proposal for my final project--I really think he's going to OK it--and I need to see him before he leaves at two."

"Have fun," Ron commented drily. He started to stand. "We should--"

"Ron, I have to ask you a huge favor."

"Sure."

"I sort of made plans for the weekend and I sort of need an alibi so I told my parents I'd be at your place." Harry felt himself go red because he knew what it sounded like. "If they call or anything can you just say I'm taking a shower or something?"

Ron grinned for a moment then frowned. "It's not Pansy, is it?"

"No. Not at all."

Grinning again, Ron said, "Only if you give me the details later."

"As many as I can remember," he promised half heartedly.

Ron laughed and nodded. "Come on. Let's go before Lupin calls the bell and gives us detention."

Civics passed slowly. Harry didn't know the material any better than he had the day before, but he somehow felt he should express an interest and show effort. It felt like a way to thank Remus for everything.

At the end of class Harry said to Ron, "Wait outside a minute," then walked up to Remus's desk.

"Hey, Remus."

"Good day, Mr. Potter," he answer pointedly but with a smile.

Harry forced a smile. "I just wanted to, umm, say thanks. For everything. I know I've been doing terrible, but it's really because of me. You're a great teacher."

Remus surveyed him closely. "Is everything all right? You look pale."

"Just thinking about having to give Mom and Dad my class report next month," he answered with a hint of truth. Hopefully this other Harry was as smart as everyone thought, or he'd never make up his grades enough to pass....

"Harry, I _have_noticed that you're putting effort into your work. So have the rest of your teachers. I was talking to Professor McGonagall the other day. Everyone is behind you and we're all here to help whenever you need it."

"Even Snape?" Harry asked with slight smirk. He didn't like this Snape much better than the other, but he'd gotten used to him being a little more human--more approachable.

"Especially Snape." There was a small, knowing glint in the man's eye. "He may not be kind about it, but he'll do anything to help Lily's son."

Harry sighed and nodded, feeling detached from this "Lily's son" Remus was talking about. This detachment seemed to seal what he had to do and strengthen his resolve. "Good," he answered somewhat defiantly. "He'll need all the help he can get."

Thinking Harry was joking, Remus chuckled. "Go on before you're late for practice."

"Good bye," he said sincerely, then left the room to meet Ron, who was waiting in the hall.

Practice passed quickly and Harry found himself wanting to talk to Draco. He wanted to explain everything, tell him to wait a few days, and to try and be nice when he saw him again--maybe they would work things out: if the other Harry really loved Draco, who was he to ruin that? He would hate to return and find that Ginny hated him.... But Ginny had the advantage of knowing that the Harry there, with her, was not the real Harry. Draco could only be confused.

As the team jogged towards the locker room Harry called carelessly in a last moment decision, "Malfoy!"

Draco didn't even look at him. "Sod off, Potter!"

Running after him, Harry grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him to a stop. Several of the other boys stopped to watch. Quietly, he said, "We need to talk."

Pulling his arm away, Draco sneered, "I don't think we do."

"Please."

Draco glared at him for a moment. "Call me tonight."

"I can't. Meet me by the front door when everyone's gone."

Draco looked apprehensive then nodded curtly. "It had better be important, Potter," he said, walking away.

"You want me to stay around for it?" Ron asked when the rest of the team had gone inside.

"No."

"What are your plans for the weekend, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"I just have a couple things I need to take care of."

"If Malfoy gets violent punch, him once for me."

"Sure thing."

When he was alone Harry went back to the field to collect the balls and return them to the shed. Snape was there, inventorying the cones, jerseys, and other mundane equipment.

"Count those balls, Potter," he ordered.

Harry sighed and looked at his watch. Draco wouldn't be done for fifteen minutes, at least, and the other Draco wouldn't be there to meet him for an hour--he had plenty of time to appear helpful. "Twenty-one, sir."

Snape eyed him suspiciously--the way he did every time Harry accidentally called him sir--then wrote down the count.

After everything was put away, Harry started out the door, then turned back to Snape. "I should leave the stat book with you."

"Not planning on skipping the game this weekend, are you?"

"Actually I am. I'm sort of...going out of town." Harry realized it was probably dangerous to have said so, Snape being Lily's friend. Not looking Snape in the eye--the other Snape's ability to read minds flooding back into his awareness--he felt his cheeks grow warm as he added, "Ron and I are taking a camping trip."

His lip curled, Snape sneered, "Spare me the details of your intimate relationships." He held out his hand for the book.

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Harry gave him the book and commented lowly, "That was a bit uncalled for." Not waiting for a response, he left the shed and wandered to the front of the building. Seamus was just driving away leaving only a couple teachers' cars and Draco's Porsche.

Harry only had to wait a few minutes before Draco appeared, hair wet, backpack slung casually over one shoulder, both hands shoved deep in the pockets of his slacks.

"Spill, Potter."

Now that he was faced with the conversation, Harry wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say. Slowly, he started, "These past few months have been crazy--"

"Don't even."

"Listen--"

His grey eyes dark and clouded with rage, Draco snapped, "Hell no! You aren't doing this again. I forgave you the first time you played bed-hopper. I forgave you the second time. I don't know who you've been screwing and I'm sorry it wasn't as good as you thought it would be, but _fuck you_if you think I'm dumb enough to have you a third time!" He seemed to have been waiting a long time to say all of this--it sounded very rerehearsed--but it still stung Harry's ego.

_Bed-hopper? I'm a dick_, he thought, not for the first time. "It's not like that. First, I'm not trying to get back together with you. Well, I mean, not now. Not ever, really. I mean--" Harry let out a frustrated groan. "Second, I'm sure I'm sorry. Just.... A lot has been going on, and I'm...taking some time. To think, you know. I want to talk to you when I'm done. In a couple days. But I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I know you're pissed. You have every right to be. For a lot of reasons." He knew he was rambling, but couldn't stop. "Just, when I do try to talk to you, listen. Don't yell and throw a fit--even though I know I deserve it, and you can do it later if you like--but when I first talk to you, when this weekend is over, just, please...listen...to whatever I have to say. Then you can yell or do whatever." There was a pregnant pause and Harry let out a deep sigh.

For a moment Draco didn't say anything. "So you wanted to talk to me to let me know you want to talk to me in a couple days?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "I don't get you sometimes."

"Sorry."

Draco sniffed and looked around, thinking. "Fine. I'll talk with you after your little soul-searching sabbatical. But don't expect my position to change."

"Honestly, I don't," Harry answered, shaking his head, "and from the sounds of it, you're probably better off if it doesn't. But thanks for saying you'll listen."

"No problem." Draco's voice carried a hint of affection as he continued, "And Harry, lay off the caffeine." With a last critical look, Draco started towards his car.

Harry heaved a relieved sigh and sat down on the curb. He looked around the campus. It was still and comfortable and he dreaded when Draco would appear. Nearly half an hour passed then before Draco, dressed in muggle clothing, strode towards him.

"I thought you'd just Apparate."

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked smoothly. "Pretty nice place you've got here, though."

Looking away, Harry replied, "It's all right," as though this entire world was merely a dingy apartment. It might as well have been.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Harry looked around. "Let's go back by the bleachers so no one sees us disappearing."

Draco followed him around the side of the building, looking at everything with mild interest.

"What did you do today?" Harry asked as they walked.

"Nothing too interesting. Walked around, mostly." He was being evasive, but Harry didn't have the energy to be suspicious.

When they reached the bleachers Draco pulled out a small bottle of emerald liquid. It was thick and seemed to swirl around the container of its own accord. "Technically, we should take it together, so don't swallow until I signal." He gulped a third of the liquid then handed it to Harry.

The potion was thick and heavy, like holding mercury in his mouth, and Harry had to fight the urge to spit it out. It had no flavor, or if it did, it was of rose petals.

Draco took Harry's arm with one hand and counted down three on his other. When the third finger dropped Harry swallowed. Almost immediately he felt himself being drawn forward and up. It was like Sidealong Apparation, except he was doing it with the contents of his stomach. He was only mildly aware that Draco still had a grip on his arm.

Several flashes of white light passed them. Darkness came and went. They were soaring over a land of green dotted with blue. The sky was violet with specks of light strewn like sparse stars. It all seemed to go on forever both below and above, violent peeling away from green in an endless horizon.

Harry tried to ask Draco where they were but he couldn't articulate the words for the air rushing past his face. The feeling of being crushed began to ease and a light sensation filled him until he thought he would float higher and higher from the strange earth that sprawled beneath them. Instead of going up, however, the light feeling brought him and Draco closer to the ground in the middle of a cluster of blue spots that turned out to be little ponds. Once that had safely landed, Harry asked, "What is this place?"

"The World of Worlds. It is where all realities are connected. Starting from here you can get anywhere if you know where you need to go."

Harry looked around. There was a golden light radiating from the purple sky and the subtle smell of something very like roses, but which could not possibly have been, invaded his senses until he thought he would choke of the scent. "Is this where...Harry, I guess, and I switched places?"

Looking around at the different pools, Draco said distractedly, "So McGonagall thinks. Here it is." He beckoned to Harry. "We're going to jump into this one. As we're falling we'll need to Disapparate. Concentrate on the orchard by the Burrow."

Somehow, knowing that Draco had been at the Burrow offended Harry, but he conjured the image in his mind and waded forward into the water after Draco. The water didn't feel like water--it felt like the emerald potion might if a person stood in a large cauldron of it. Heavy liquid pressed in on Harry's calves making it difficult to move.

As Harry reached the center of the tiny pool the terrible sensation of falling overcame him. More blinding lights rushed by him and he was horrified to find himself tumbling down at a breath-taking speed--indeed, he could barely draw a breath for the pressure of the air whooshing against his chest. Harry squinted through his eyelashes and immediately wished he hadn't. He was free-falling from so high above the earth that he could make out the shapes of continents. Several seconds passed before he collect himself enough to even recall that he was supposed to be Disapparating, forget being able to clearly picture where he planned to go. It had been so long since he'd even believed there was a thing called Disapparation that, for just one, terrible moment, he froze, sure it wouldn't work.

When his wits were put in place, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, thought of fellytones, and called into the wind, "The Burrow!" and disappeared from the air.

TBC

**~~***~~**

And here we have Harry's re-entrance to the world of magic.... It took me a very long time to write this part, mostly because I liked writing the other stuff so much more. It was fun to have Harry learning about this other version of himself, and getting to be around his parents. Oh well. It had to end eventually, if I wanted to finish the story. I hope you all liked your holiday update. Not as long as it might have been, but I stayed out later than I thought I would on Christmas Eve.

I got a DS, by the way, with some cool Japanese programs. I admit I _did_spend some time I'd thought I would have for this playing with those. ^_^ It was sort of neat: one of the programs I got, I'd looked at on Amazon, and really wanted, but decided I'd pass on because it was very similar to a textbook I already had. Even though I wanted it, I couldn't help but feel I'd be wasting my money if I got it. Now that I have it, I'm really glad "my friend's cat," Neechum, got it for me. みんなさん、メーリ・クリスマス！読んでいました、ありがとうございました！

I hope everyone else had/has a wonderful season. (I'm going to try and add another chapter tonight...we'll see what happens.)


	15. In Which There is a Reunion

**12/31 EDIT: In editing chapter 16, I realized I put the wrong DE name in this chapter. No details so I don't spoil it for first-time readers, but for everyone whose read this once, where Ron mentions the "Lestranges," it has now been changed to "Carrows." [embarrassed]**

Ah, here we have the most difficult chapter of them all.... I had a hard time deciding how to do this. I played with the idea of going back to the summer and telling the other Harry's story, catching him up to "our Harry," then finishing the story off, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized the other Harry didn't have much happening that I wanted to write about: nothing that couldn't be recapped if it needed to be there.

Another thing I had a hard time with was what to do with the wizarding world.... I borrowed from the books, but I tried not to just say, "Well, go read the beginning of DH." There were a couple character problems in here...but in the end I think it came out well.

Umm, I really think after this there will only be two or three more chapters. YAY! I looked at the word count just before coming here to type this and post it and I was shocked! Before this chapter I had almost 85,000 words in this story! I don't know how I managed to write all of this and not realize how long it was....

Anyway, on to the story. There are several review responses at the end of the chapter along with lots of thanks to everyone. This story was in the making for a long time, and there were several times when I thought it would join the ranks of the unfinished: your reviews have really help inspire me to put extra effort into editing it and making it the best it can be. ^_^

**~~***~~**

"Harry!"

Harry half expected to open his eyes and find he had climbed the school building and jumped off--it would have matched perfectly with what he was feeling.

"He'll be fine. Get him into the bed."

He was hoisted--not gently--and carried by at least two people of extremely different heights, then laid on a warm, soft comforter. He thought he should open his eyes and tell them he was all right, but he was very tired and went to sleep instead.

**~~***~~**

When Harry came to the second time he opened his eyes. At first the room seemed unfamiliar, then he recognized it: it was Ron's room at the Burrow made up with a second bed. Pressing a hand to his forehead as he did so, Harry sat up and looked blearily around. He was alone, but it seemed only just so because the echo of footsteps going down the stairs reached his ringing ears.

Harry stood slowly, his legs and arms shaking slightly. He felt weak and sick, like when he had woken up at the Potters'. Making his way to the door, he pushed it opened, unsure if any of this was real. He didn't feel like he was sleeping....

The walk down the long, winding stairs was dangerous in its own right, and with how dizzy Harry was, it was a miracle he managed his decent without tripping. Several voices floated up to him and he recognized most of them: there were several Weasleys, Ron, Hermione, and Remus. Draco made some comment.

Harry didn't want to go any farther.

"He has to wake up soon," Mrs. Weasley said with thin confidence.

"Took him a while to wake up before...."

"He's not injured this time," Draco said. "Snape thinks he should come around soon."

"If only Professor Snape was here to check on him," Mrs. Weasley worried. "I hope nothing's gone wrong with the potion...."

"_I'm_ fine," Draco answered. "He should be, too."

Tired of being talked about, Harry stepped off the stairs and around the corner. When he emerged in the living room the din of conversation stopped and everyone stared at him.

Hermione was first to speak: "Harry?"

For a moment Harry only looked around, taking in the reality before him. Then he saw Ginny.

She was standing behind her father's chair, watching him with great uncertainty.

Thinking of the other Harry and wondering what poor Ginny had been subjected to while he was away, Harry looked at her apologetically. He didn't know what to say and waited a terribly long time before Hermione pushed her way around Ron and the twins to hug him.

"It _is_ you."

Harry hugged her back numbly.

The tension broken, they all began to talk at once. Harry was overwhelmed by everyone welcoming him home and asking where he had been. He gave a simple account of the other world, leaving out anything more detailed than the presence or absence of certain people. He still didn't trust that he wouldn't wake up in his bed at the Potters'.

Mrs. Weasley bustled over to him and coaxed him into a chair while Remus made him tea. Before long everyone calmed down and Harry insisted on talking about the matter at hand: there was a boy to be rescued.

"I know where he's being kept," Draco said after some prodding.

"Let him rest," Mrs. Weasley chided, turning a warning glare at Harry and Draco both.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. He wanted it to be over with. He wanted the truth and the only way to get it was to find this other Harry. He looked around. "Where is my wand?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned.

"I've been keeping it for you," Remus said, frowning as well.

Before anyone else could say anything, Mrs. Weasley broke in, "I really think you should have a good night's rest. Go to bed and--"

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry interrupted, "please, I just want to take care of this." Part of him hoped if he finished the task of saving himself he would be allowed to wake back up at home. Another part of him realized he _was_ home, and he wanted to get the other Harry back as soon as possible so he could forget that other world even existed.

Remus stepped forward. "Harry, you are the last person we are sending to Voldemort's headquarters. We have Draco," he nodded at the blond, "and Severus. They have worked out a plan to retrieve the other Harry. _You_ are to stay here. As far as Voldemort is concerned, you are still safely in the other world."

Glaring, Harry said, "I can help." He felt reckless and knew he was trying patience, but didn't care.

"Don't go."

Harry looked behind him. Ginny was standing in the doorway to the kitchen looking haggard and care-worn. Her arms were crossed over her chest tightly, her eyes dull and hollow. It was the first thing she had said to him directly, and he avoided her stern eyes as he replied, "Ginny, I have to."

She huffed, turned, and stalked up the stairs.

Interrupting, Mr. Weasley said, "Harry, have something to eat, then go rest. It's too late to do anything and Professor Snape has said he'll be by tomorrow with news."

Partially persuaded, Harry nodded slowly. He didn't feel hungry, but he wanted to go off with Ron and Hermione and ask them about the other Harry. He felt like he was at a business meeting and needed to be breifed, and that was all: he felt very detached from everyone around him. "If Snape comes early, wake me up," he said, standing. As he left the kitchen there was a chorus of good-nights and Ron followed him.

"Good night, everybody," Hermione said and jogged after them. When all three of them were in Ron's room with the door closed and silencing charms cast, she said, "Thank goodness you're back. Everyone's been frantic!"

Struck by the similarities between the two Hermiones, Harry took a moment to ask, "What's he like? The other one."

"He's a prick," Ron answered quickly, as though he'd been waiting to be asked his opinion.

"He's definitely not you," Hermione said more diplomatically. "I don't think he ever _did_ believe this was all really happening. It took the longest time to convince him that he couldn't just stay in bed until he woke up. He nearly made himself sick, refusing to eat or anything else. " She sounded exasperated at the memory.

Ron laughed suddenly. "He made Snape mad, though."

"Oh?" Harry was suddenly curious as to Snape's role in all of this and why no one seemed angry with him any more, and resolved to ask about it as soon as they were done talking about Harry.

"He was trying to give the guy a sleeping draught and he--Harry, I mean--practically threw it into Snape's face. Seemed to think it was poisonous, or something. Told him where he could go and how he could get there, if you know what I mean." Ron laughed, delighted with the memory.

"I bet he's having a right time with Voldemort," Harry muttered, feeling the first slight stab of pity for this boy he didn't know.

Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything for several moments.

A grin broke out over Ron's face. "What's the other me like?"

Thinking hard of the other Ron, Harry said slowly, "A lot like you, actually. He might be a little more arrogant, though."

Still grinning, he pressed, "And Hermione?"

"Oh, really," Hermione huffed, though she couldn't help but look a little interested.

Harry had to grin, too. "Exactly the same." Feeling an ease in the tension, Harry launched into a more detailed explanation than he had shared downstairs. He told them about his parents, his heart aching with longing as he described his beautiful mother; he recounted some stories about James and how they were fixing his grandfather's Mustang so Harry could have it; he told them about learning to drive and almost wrecking Mr. Malfoy's BMW; he told them about Remus's giant aid dog, Snuffles, and Peter's existence and continued friendship with James and Lily.

Through all his stories, Ron asked several questions and swore appropriately when Wormtail was mentioned.

Hermione, however, remained silent, her countenance growing darker as she listened. When Harry was just about to tell them about Dumbledore and Riddle, she interrupted: "You _do_ know you really belong here, don't you?"

Ron and Harry looked at her.

Slowly, she continued, "I mean, you talk about it like you're going back there, and all this stuff--soccer, the car--it's all going to be there waiting for you."

Stung by her bluntness, Harry said guiltily, "I know it's not-- I mean, I'm not going--"

"Geez, Hermione," Ron said loudly, "leave the man alone."

Hermione's frown deepened. "I know you've been through a lot, Harry, but you need to be realistic. The other Harry should be rescued within the week. He'll go back there and you'll have to--"

"I know!" Harry snapped. He stared out the window.

A full minute passed.

"Harry," Hermione began softly, "I'm really glad you're back. We all are--"

"Look, I should get some sleep. Like Mr. Weasley said."

Looking hurt but not pressing the issue, Hermione nodded and stood. "Good night, then."

Harry didn't reply, but threw himself back onto the camp bed and studied the ceiling. _Realistic_? She wanted him to be _realistic_? She didn't even know what the word meant!

"'Night, then," Ron said carefully, lying on his own bed.

Harry sighed. He wished he could talk to his dad, or at least Sirius....

**~~***~~**

"Harry? Harry, dear?"

"In a minute, Mum," Harry muttered, slowly waking. He tossed his blanket over his head and rolled over.

"Harry."

He was shaken briskly. Opening his eyes and peering out from under his blanket, Harry was startled to see Mrs. Weasley, then he was disappointed. With all the effort he had put into believing that the wizarding world never existed, he was afraid it would be a while before he was used to being back.

"'Morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said, sitting up.

"You don't look pale at all any more. Good. Professor Snape is here. He seemed a little concerned that you weren't well when you got here yesterday, but as long as you're better now."

"Yeah. I'm fine." Recalling his desire to speak with Snape (all strongly negative feelings towards the man seemed erased by his time with the other Snape), Harry was suddenly very awake. "He's still here?"

"Yes. In the kitchen. He wants to see you."

Harry nodded. When Mrs. Weasley had gone, he climbed out of bed and dressed. Ron was still sleeping. He left the room and hurried down the stairs. He could hear Snape's voice from the kitchen.

"Just milk, please."

Walking through the door, Harry looked at Snape. Here was the man who killed Dumbledore.... His pain was dulled by the memory of the other Dumbledore. An odd disappointment in the man who was so built-up in his memories of Hogwarts filled him: it seemed the real world and his months of denial had dimmed many of his feelings for this place and the people in it. He still didn't want to spend any extra time with the man, but he hardly felt the burnign hatred he'd had the last time he saw him.

Snape stood and looked at Harry. "Finally awake, Potter?"

"Yes." Cuttign directly to the point, Harry asked, "When are you getting the other Harry?"

Raising an amused eyebrow, the man commented coolly, "So eager."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason." Snape watched him for a moment as though waiting. It was possible he wondered that Harry didn't attack him as soon as he walked into the room. At length he said, "We have plans in place to have him out on Wednesday."

_I'd be missing for three days, and that's if Mum and Dad don't bother to see if I'm really at Ron's or not. They'll panic_, Harry thought. He frowned. "That's too long."

"Excuse me?"

"We have to do it as soon as possible."

"I do not recall you being in charge, Potter."

Mrs. Weasley, who had just finished fixing Snape's coffee, said, "Harry, Professor Snape has a very well-laid-out plan--"

"What is it?" Harry once again felt the reckless need to charge ahead, almost certain of his invulnerability to this world. Part of him knew he was being childish and careless of the people he would endanger, but most of him didn't care: he needed to be doing something. _Anything_.

Snape seemed to consider not telling him because his eyes narrowed with annoyance at the boy's demanding tone. Slowly, he said, "It will be Wednesday evening. There is an...event planned for the Dark Lord's followers that will have most of them occupied. In the distraction, Draco and I will remove the boy and bring him to a safe location. From there, he will have his memory modified and be returned home."

"I want to go, too," Harry demanded.

"Don't be a fool," Snape sneered, cutting off Mrs. Weasley as she opened her mouth to comment. "The only reason the boy's not dead is because the Dark Lord believes you will physically take his place when you return. He'll have him killed the moment he see you're already here."

A low growl of frustration escaped Harry throat. He hated sitting by, being useless. "How will you know where to bring him back to? I'd be the best to make sure he got home. I should be involved."

While Snape seemed to seriously consider Harry's position for the first time, Mrs. Weasley said, "Harry, Professor Snape knows what he's doing. It's safer if you stay as far from You-Know-Who as possible."

If the man had been about to concede he'd changed his mind at Mrs. Weasley's words. He took a drink from his coffee.

_Stay away from Voldemort? For now,_ Harry thought, recalling the mission Dumbledore gave him. It was brought to mind with bitterness, but it tempered him: he couldn't actually do anything to Voldemort now anyway: he'd need the horcruxes first, and there was no way rescuing the other Harry could wait that long.

Resolving himself to wait for Snape and Draco, Harry said, "All right," sat at the table, and set to thinking of a good excuse to give Lily and James for going missing for so many days.

**~~***~~**

The weekend dragged slowly by. Harry spent most of his time alone, thinking: Ron and Hermione gave him a wide berth, seeming to prefer each other's company.

Draco was no where to be seen and Harry learned that he spent most of his time as a fulltime student at Hogwarts still. The school, now taken over by Voldemort's followers, was more of a training camp and attendance was mandatory: anyone of Hogwarts age who did not attend was "collected." Ron only managed to escape retrieval because he was said to be ill with some terrible disease. Ginny was also quarantined because of her exposure to him.

Hermione was safe only in that she seemed to have disappeared: Voldemort's Hogwarts had no place for Muggle-borns and she had very cleverly made her family appear to move unexpectedly.

As for other Order members, the Burrow remained mostly still. They seemed to have abandoned regular meetings at any particular place in favor of Patronus-medium messages. It was getting more and more dangerous to be seen in groups with anyone besides one's own family and no one wanted to compromise safety needlessly.

It wasn't until Sunday evening that Harry got around to asking Ron about what happened concerning Snape and Draco after he had disappeared. The two were in Ron's room, looking through old Quidditch books for lack of better entertainment when the subject came up.

It started to get darker so Ron stood to get his wand and light they lamp. As he passed the window, he swore.

Haryr looked up. "What?"

"Snape coming down from the orchard. Don't know what he's here for," he said with a frown. "Not supposed to see him until he has Harry. Well, the _other_ Harry."

Pushing himself up, Harry peered out the window at the man. Snape was swathed in a heavy traveling cloak and he was almost running as he approached.

"Seems in a hurry," Harry commented. "You never did say why he's still in the Order."

"Oh, that." Turning on the light, Ron sat back down on his bed. "About a week after the Hogsmeade incident Lupin came saying Snape had sent him a message. I don't know what was in it. He talked with Mum and Dad alone for a long time and Mum yelled a bit. A couple days later Draco showed up by himself. He was poisoned pretty badly. We found out later that You-Know-Who had killed his parents and tried to kill him."

Harry's insides clenched painfully at the news.

Uneffected, Ron spoke without pausing, "I guess he thought Draco was responsible for you getting away. It took a while, but Draco got better."

"Snape sent him here?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Mum didn't want to let him come because she thought it was a trap," Ron said, nodding. "Dad didn't really want to, but Lupin seemed convinced Snape was only concerned about Draco."

Harry frowned and leaned forward a little. He wished Snape wasn't in the house: it felt weird and he decided that whatever trust the man had had from him by proxy was unearned. "That's how Draco happened along, but where'd Snape come from? And why didn't Voldemort just kill Draco when he went back to school?"

"That's the crazy part." Ron's voice got lower and he looked a little ill as he related: "It was a Blood-Boiling Concoction that Draco was sick from. A weak one. He was never going to die. That made Mum even more suspicious."

"I bet," Harry affirmed, suspicious himself.

"Lupin reckons Voldemort was just torturing him for some reason--"

"But why does Remus trust Snape so much?"

"Donno. He never said. But when Mum wanted to chuck Draco out when she learned what had really made him sick, Lupin turned up and they talked a lot. Whatever he told her, she changed her mind."

"And Draco just stayed here?"

"Well, they moved him to headquarters at Grimmauld after everyone decided he wasn't a threat--didn't tell him about headquarters, mind. Just blindfolded him and knocked him out while they brought him there."

"Bet Voldemort wasn't happy with him getting away."

Shaking his head, he said, "Not really. But Snape was telling the Death Eaters that Draco had just run away, and that he was tracking him down. When Draco got better, Snape turned up to get him. Mum didn't want to let him go. 'He'll kill the boy!' she'd yelled. Snape said he'd kill Draco if he _didn't_ go back, that he was in no mortal danger as long as he kept in line."

"But why does everyone trust Snape?" Harry pressed.

Ron didn't answer for a few seconds then he said grudgingly, "Lupin got himself into a bit of a spot and was almost killed by Death Eaters. It was Snape who saved him. Sort of. He talked them into keeping him prisoner long enough for the full moon. When Lupin was going to transform, Snape sent the guards in to kill him 'on orders from Voldemort.'" He looked flustered as he finished awkwardly, "Lupin sort of killed them. The next morning Snape showed up here again, this time with Lupin. No one's questioned him since."

"He saved Remus?"

Ron nodded.

Harry bit his lip. He wouldn't have suspected it. In fact, it was so unbelievable that he almost thought it was a ploy to earn their trust. "Who did Remus...kill?"

Seeming to understand the gravity of the topic, Ron answered in barely more than a whisper. "One of the Carrows and two other men."

_Poor Remus. He must feel terrible, even if they were Death Eaters._ Harry was very aware of Remus's dislike for the animalistic nature of his condition and the thought of having mauled people while a werewolf must have made him miserable. He recalled thinking AIDS was such an unfair trade, but lycanthropy was worse, he decided.

"We didn't hear from Snape again until well after the other Harry woke up. The raid on headquarters happened and you went missing again."

Nodding, Harry said, "Draco told me about that."

"A few weeks later, Snape contacted Lupin again and told him that Voldemort had you, but that there was a problem. Dad and he talked for a while and Dad finally told him we didn't actually know where the real you was. Snape started working on the inside to find out more about the other Harry so he could try and locate you. McGonagall was working on it, too, as much as she could."

Harry sat in silence for several seconds. He wasn't sure he trusted Snape, but here he was and he wasn't dead yet. Draco hadn't hurt him and there seemed to be several pieces of evidence in Snape's favor. But then....

"What about Dumbledore, though?"

Once again, Ron paused before answering. "He was dying anyway."

Harry stared at him like he was crazy.

Sensing the disbelief, Ron said, "Remember the curse on his hand? It was deadly. Madame Pomfrey admitted that she'd been keeping it secret that he was so injured, and that she'd been making him murtlap essence draughts all year to keep him well enough to work and stuff. Snape was supposedly working on a potion to counter the curse, but couldn't find one."

_So it was an execution. Was Dumbledore scared of Voldemort getting him while he was weak? Was he worried about something else? Maybe of Voldemort discovering where we'd gone and what we were doing?_ As far as Harry knew, Voldemort had no idea they were targeting the horcruxes.... Overcome by anxiety, Harry stood and paced. He wanted to leave now: he wanted to destroy Voldemort and end this war before it claimed any more lives.

He stopped pacing and went to look out the window. Snape was running back across the yard. _What's he in such a hurry over?_ Harry wondered. It unsettled him and he couldn't think of anything else all night.

_If we can really trust him, he'll bring the other Harry this week. Then we'll know. Either he brings him, or he doesn't...._

_**~~***~~**_

Monday morning, Harry woke with an odd feeling. His parents would have known he was missing for several hours already.... _Poor Mom_, he thought, staring at the ceiling, guilt twisting his stomach painfully.

"You getting up today?" Ron called from across the room where he was dressing.

"Yeah," Harry answered, sitting up, his hair springing around as he did. "Any plans for today?"

"Hermione has some maps she found for our Trip," Ron said vaguely.

"Wants to go over them?"

Ron shrugged.

Harry sighed and climbed out of bed.

The three of them had refrained from talking about their plans to go off any more than they had to. They didn't want it common knowledge and any time it was brought up Mrs. Weasley got very agitated. They all seemed to feel if they didn't talk about it, it wasn't really happening.

Thinking about the horcruxes again made Harry think of Dumbledore and Snape. He'd had a long night with little sleep--he kept thinking he was betraying the other Harry by leaving him for Snape and Draco to take care of.

As he dressed, curiosity concerning Snape's visit the previous night flooded Harry. What was so urgent? Did it have anything to do with the other Harry? Could something have happened to Draco?

There was too much to worry about in this world. Too many people to think of....

Looking around the room and grabbing a book from the top of his dresser, Ron started towards the door. "Meet you downstairs?"

Harry made a disinterested sound and sat on his bed. He stayed there for several minutes before getting up and going after Ron. He did want to go over the maps and work on plans for The Trip (as it was now dubbed), and he could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen, he just didn't want to be around everyoen else. Oh well. a quick breakfast, then he could find a quiet place to try and relax.

**~~***~~**

The days continued to crawl. Ron and Hermione did their best to entertain Harry, but his anxiety seemed to be bleeding into all of them. Ron kept snapping at the twins and every time he or Harry looked out the window for signs of Snape or Draco, Hermione would comment about how it was only Tuesday and they should stop pacing and do something useful.

The only one who did not seem to have much to say was Ginny. She stayed in her room mostly, keeping away from Harry in a way that made him wonder if she was angry or guilty. He wanted to talk to her, but every time he tried she would end up remembering something she needed to do anywhere that wasn't where Harry was likely to be.

Harry tried not to take his frustration out on Ron or Hermione, but they were the only ones there: it was a terrible cycle that would only be rectified when the other Harry was found and returned home.

Harry found himself placing a lot on the event of returning the other Harry to his world. When the other Harry was gone they could leave on their Trip...they could stop wondering so much about Snape...Draco would stay at school and not be in danger for sneaking around...Ginny would forgive Harry...Harry would forget what it was like to have a family.... On the list went, one painful notation after the next until Harry almost couldn't bare his preoccupation with it.

After making his usual pacing rounds, Harry said, "I'm going for a walk."

"Stay close," Hermione warned.

Without comment, Harry pushed the back door open and wandered around the garden for several minutes. When he could find no more interesting weeds to distract himself with, he left through the side gate and started towards the orchard. A walk in the trees might help....

As he crested the little hill at the entrance to the orchard, Harry stopped. Farther down the line of trees Ginny was standing, her back to him. She was holding a flower and looking beautiful. Dare he approach her?

_She probably came up here to be alone, too,_ he thought. _Shouldn't bother her...._ As he turned to go, he stepped on a stick which popped loudly as it snapped in two.

Whirling to face him, Ginny called, "Who's there?" Her face was dark.

With a sigh, Harry took a step forward. "Just me."

Her back straightened and she seemed to contemplate running.

"I'll go." Harry started to turn.

"Wait."

Looking at her hopefully, Harry moved closer. His steps were light and slow as though she was a wild deer that might bolt at sudden movement.

Ginny was quiet for several minutes.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said. He didn't know what for. Scaring her. Leaving her alone in Hogsmeade with Death Eaters on the loose. Making her deal with that other Harry for so long without even trying to find a way back to her....

"W-What was I like? The other me." She fixed a steely stare on him.

Debating telling her the truth or not, Harry finally said, "There was no other you. Well, there was, but she died when she was four."

Her eyes softening, Ginny said, "The other you is--"

"A jerk?" Harry suggested coolly.

"A bit." She smiled a little. "I tried to talk to him a couple times. I guess I got upset when he didn't know me but he knew other people."

Feeling comfortable for the first time since he'd gotten back, Harry noticed the tension in his neck had eased. "My mom-- The Lily there, sort of felt the same way." He related the car crash and how upset Lily had been to lose her son.

"How could anyone like him?" Ginny sneered.

"He's really _that_ bad?"

"He's not you," she said with emotion. Before Harry could reply, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and buried her face in his neck. "I missed you."

Harry hugged her back. "I missed you, too."

"Do you wish you were going back?"

"What?"

Ginny pulled away and looked at him. "You had your parents. And I bet things were simpler without Voldemort."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "But it's complicated. I felt so...trapped. I had to be this person that I didn't know. And the more I knew him, the more I realized I didn't like him. I'd love to have my parents back," he confessed, not looking her in the eye. He had planned to say something about how having _her_ was more important, though; or maybe that they weren't his real parents, so it was OK if he didn't get to see them again, but he couldn't force it out. Instead he held her again, running his fingers over her hair.

_This_ was where he belonged. If he could only stay right here and never have to go anywhere, in either world, things would be perfect.

After a few minutes, Ginny said, "We should go back to the house. I didn't tell anyone I was going out, so Mum might notice I'm gone and get worried."

Suddenly burning with a need to know the answer to the question he'd been dreading getting an answer to, Harry stopped her from walking away. "He didn't do anything, did he? Or say anything?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You were just-- You seemed really mad at me when I got back. Then you didn't want to talk to me."

Smiling a little, Ginny said, "He didn't do anything. If he'd've tried anything, I'd've hexed him into a slug or something. I just...knew he wasn't you. And I missed you." This confession seemed too much for her because she looked away, blushing, then walked quickly towards the house.

Smiling to himself, Harry followed her. Maybe it really was OK after all....

TBC

**~~***~~**

Wow. Almost done.... I can hardly believe it! And so many reviews!

Utena: I don't know if I'd say Harry is Neville's hero, but this is definitely giving Neville a little boost in confidence. Sometimes all it takes to realize that you should stick up for yourself is one other person putting himself on the line for you. I love how brave Neville is in the books (the scene with him standing up to Voldemort at the end of DH is my favorite in the entire series), and it really makes me like Harry as a character because he was so patient and encouraging, and helped Neville get to that point.

I really wanted to do more with the two of them in this, but I tried not to get too far off track--I wanted to finish it some day and if I followed all the little plot threads that popped into my head from this 'verse I'd be writing until I was 80.... -_-* [whisper] I _am _thinking of doing a second set of postings with shorts from scene ideas I had while writing, but I consider that simiar to my promises of sequels: I'm very bad at finishing sequels.

Failing Mentality: Oh! You're so mean! There is.... I mean, there was.... Oh! Your comment about Harry using sex as form of bullying.... Well, I have backstory ideas for the non-magic world Harry and that really plays into them.... No, he does not bully people like that, by the way, and there's a very specific reason he wouldn't.... Like I mentioned above, I'm thinking of compiling my notes and posting scenes, so I don't want to give everything away.... I think it's interesting that you thought that though. I thought it myself, as I was writing. "What _did_ Harry do to Neville?" I wondered. I actually had to stop and think about it because I needed to know. When I got to writing the other Harry I needed to know his personality. Then when I was writing Ginny's reaction to the real Harry coming back, I thought, "Well, why does she want so little to do with him?" Harry's question about the other Harry doing or saying anything to her was as much mine as his (if that makes any sense). But no. He's just a really arrogant jerk...mostly. ^_-

Petites: Yay! for Snape! ^_^ Yes, he gets to do something a little caring. He's sort of responding to Harry talking about how unacceptable the bullying is--remember, Harry is the bully. Well, not bully, really. He's the jock, and poor Neville is just the usual target from childhood. (Crabbe is the school bully: you know, the one NO ONE wants to have a run-in with.) So here we have Snape, who get to see that this Harry is different--more like Lily than James. It's a pity because I really think "our Harry" and "the other Snape" could get along well if they had time to bond.... [sigh] Oh well.

And Draco's comment about Harry having changed.... He has, hasn't he? He's gotten attached to this idea of being safe and having his family and friends safe. The Harry from the books wouldn't learn that the people he loved were in danger and go, "Oh, well, I don't feel like talking to you today, so just go back without me. Bother someone else." Maybe at the beginning of book 5 he would have.... -_-* Draco sees Harry as always having to be the hero, so to see him so...defeated is strange to him.

And someone made a comment about the two Dracos meeting.... ( I don't remember who, sorry. -_-* ) I do have something of an epilogue that sort of addresses what Draco did during the day when Harry was saying goodbye to everyone--he didn't just lounge around the house. But it cames at the end, as all epilogues do, so you'll have to wait for that. ^_-

Meeh-san: Thank you for your comment. Yes, as soon as you mentioned that in your other review I went, "Yay! Someone knows where this is going!" I mean, I'm sure a bunch of you thought of it, too, but it was nice to see my forshadowing was working. [smile]

Him-mione (another great name, by the way): Yeah. Colin...driving. Honestly, the story never gets around to revealing the truth about the accident, so here, in response to this very review, I will tell you: Yes, Colin was driving. I planned to have it all come out, but it didn't end up being particularly important by the end of the story, so I just sort of left off. (Yes, Colin is too young to drive, which is part of the reason he left the accident.) Good spot. ^_^

Well everyone, just a couple chapters left. I want to have eveything posted by the 1st of 2009.... I know it's already the 28th, but I think I can get the last couple/few chapters edited and posted in time to make my New Year's Resolution. I hope everyone else is having fun squeezing in their last minute goals for 2008 and getting ready for new goals for 2009. Keep reading and reviewing, and I'll work hard to get the rest done on time! ^_^


	16. In Which There is a Collision

A couple fairly significant notes:

First, in the last chapter there was a naming mistake. I noted it there, but just so there's continuity, when Ron is talking about Remus and Snape the DE's he mentions are the Carrows, not the Lestranges. There is a scene in this that was not here when I first wrote the story and then when I finished it, I forgot to change the scene. I caught it belatedly as I was editing this. So, yeah.

Second, I'll say again, has really hanged since I started posting! They won't let me keep more than 15 files in my document manager. (.-_-.) I had to go through and delete the early chapters, which I suppose doesn't matter _that_ much, but if I have to change anything in the early chapters I'll have to make a new document and upload it all over again.... [sigh]

Third, my deadline is getting closer and closer.... Only a few hours and I still have a decent amount of editing to do. Everything will be posted on time, but I'm nervous about the quality of the editing job. The first several chapters have been combed with a fine-tooth comb several times, and everything from 11 on is comparatively new.... So if anyone finds any inconsistencies, please point them out so I can fix them.

Forth, having to narrate two Harrys interacting is difficult. Anywhere it refers to "the other Harry," it is speaking about the "real world" Harry. I only refer to him as plain "Harry" when I'm sure he can't be confused for "ours."

Now for fluffier comments: I really like this section. I can't say why, exactly, it just feels the same as the "real world" chapters. I think 15 is just a necessary (not necessarily well-written) transition. I hope everyone likes this chapter--and hopefully it's more interesting than the last--and your first glimpse of the other Harry!

**~~***~~**

Wednesday finally came and dinner was set out on the table. The room was tense, everyone waiting for Snape and Draco to arrive with the other Harry and the last of the Traveling Potion.

Harry leaned against the wall and watched everyone milling around. They made small talk and tried to seem cheerful and unconcerned.... He thought longingly of Lily and James and wondered what they would do if they knew the danger their precious son was in.

"All right, all right," Mrs. Weasley called. "It's ready."

Sitting so he could easily look out the window towards the orchard--the point to which Snape would be Apparating--Harry pushed his chair in and helped himself to mashed potatoes and roast. It smelled delicious, but he couldn't make himself eat more than three bites: he kept staring out the window.

"Death Eater raids don't happen 'til after dark," Ginny advised him in a low voice. "You might as well eat."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Sorry?"

"He probably won't be coming for quite some time."

"Oh. Yeah." Harry poked at his food.

Farther down the table, Ron laughed thinly, drawing Harry's attention. "I think we should make him sleep outside until he has to leave."

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley chided, though her glare looked forced. "That poor boy had been through a lot. How would you like it if you were taken away from your family and your nice, peaceful life, and thrown into all this?"

He muttered an apology, but Harry would have bet he didn't really change his mind about the other Harry.

Going back to peering out the window, Harry's mind wandered and his vision slightly blurred as he began to think. He wondered for the hundredth time about this other boy. He had spent all his life wishing he had his parents and that Voldemort never existed. What would he be like if he got his wish? The ache to know was almost too great, but a fear of what he thought the other version of him would be like tempered it a little. Harry had yet to see anything that might endear him to the boy and he hoped they got on at least well enough to have a civilized conversation.

"Merlin!"

Harry nearly jumped out of his chair when Mrs. Weasley yelled. He looked around, saw her looking out the window, and followed her gaze. Coming down the hill--running, yet again--were Snape and Draco. Their was a third person supported between them. At the sight, he stood and moved closer to the window to try and see better.

Mr. Weasley ran to the door and opened it just as the trio reached the back step.

As they burst into the room a chaos of shifting took place. Hermione, who had the seat by the door, stood so Draco, who was wheezing and holding his chest, could sit. Snape pushed past Harry and rushed to Mr. Weasley's side and began speaking very quickly in hushed tones. The boy who'd come in with them slid by Ginny to sit in Harry's now emptied seat. He was a little taller than Harry, but just as thin. His eyes, dazzlingly green, were half closed as though he'd only just woken up, and there was a cut across his left cheek. Jet black hair, cut shorter than Harry's, but still terribly messy, sprung up around the boy's head. Sighing and wiping his face, he looked around and, for the first time, spotted Harry staring at him in amazement.

Now that they were looking at one another, Harry noticed something that startled him and made him blink: the boy had no scar on his forehead. He stared at the blank stretch of skin for several seconds, his mouth slightly agape.

As though entirely too used to situations like this (or else not realizing that he had just managed to escape the most evil wizard who ever lived with little more than scratches), the other Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "Hullo." He had to be in shock, or something.

Harry couldn't speak for almost a minute. When he did, all he could manage was a profanity that made Hermione wince.

"Are you all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked the other Harry. She was less motherly with him, but seemed to feel the well-being of anybody in her home to be her highest priority. She began checking him for visible injuries.

Though he was pale and breathing as heavily as Draco, he appeared almost unaffected. "Mostly. Starving, though. Are we having dinner?" He looked around at the food as though he hadn't eaten in days--it was likely he hadn't.

Mrs. Weasley began fixing him a plate.

"Molly," Mr. Weasley interrupted his wife's ministrations with urgency. "Everybody, we need to get out of here."

"What? Why?" Harry demanded, looking accusingly at Snape.

"Were you seen?" Ron asked Draco.

Coughing, Draco shook his head--he was having a very difficult time getting his breath back. "The Dark Lord announced his target for tonight's outing," he said.

A moment passed before the meaning of the statement sunk in. As soon as it did, pandemonium broke loose. Ron started babbling about needing things from his room and Mrs. Weasley began barking orders at everyone and everything, including the sink and the clock.

The other Harry just sat at the table, eating a piece of roast he had pulled off when Mrs. Weasley didn't hand him his plate.

"Calmly!" Mr. Weasley called. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny: I want you to go hide in the woods. Make your way towards the Lovegoods. They're closest. Stay hidden until everything has settled down then--"

Ginny and Ron cast frightened looks at their father and Harry said, "No! I can help you."

"This is not the time for you to fight," Mr. Weasley said as soothingly as he could, though his voice shook. "You can not be seen, and neither can he."

Since the order to hide, the other Harry had been paying more attention and glared as he was gestured to. "What's going on?" He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. He had a long burn that stretched up his forearm from the back of his wrist and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt: it looked fresh and made Harry wince.

What torture had Voldemort put him through? Feeling guilty and remembering his responsibility to Lily and James to return their son in more or less one piece, he said, "Don't worry about him. I'll make sure he gets back." To Snape he said, "Give me the Traveling Potion."

"Potter, now is not the time for your antics," Snape began to lecture

"Yours either," he countered hotly. "I'll take him home then come right back."

"Aurthur, it's too dangerous," Mrs. Weasley said. "What if they get lost?"

Finally standing, Draco said, "They can't get lost. The potion takes you right where you need to go. I could go, if you want. I've been there, and I can't be seen here."

The other Harry was looking at Draco thoughtfully. His gaze shifted to Harry, his eyes raking the familiar face and stopping on the lightening bolt scar.

Feeling awkward, Harry looked away from the other boy and restated, "I'll be fine. Give me the potion."

Snape sighed and fished through the inner pocket of his robe. He took out a vial only slightly bigger than the one Draco had fetched him with. "There is enough for five to travel one way," he said, holding it out to Harry. "Make sure you are very clearly envisioning your destination when you drink it, or I don't know where you will end up."

Harry took the vial and nodded. Turning to the other Harry, he said, "Are you ready?"

Nodding, he said, "As I'll ever be. This is has been one wild ride." He looked at Snape and then the Weasleys. He offered no thanks or apologies, but looked as though he was watching a vaguely interesting television show.

Harry glared. It wasn't a carnival....

"I'll come, too," Draco said. He started to reach for the vial in Harry's hand. "We have to do it out by the orchard, though, because of all the wards--"

Draco was cut off by a loud explosion from outside. A flaming ball the size of a Quaffle broke through the kitchen window. There were shouts from outside and someone screamed, "Blood traitors!"

"Run!" Mr. Weasley yelled. "Out the front!" Without hesitation, he pushed through the backdoor, towards the approaching robed figures. Without looking at one another, Fred and George charged out after their father, wands drawn.

Mrs. Weasley stood a moment, watching her husband and sons disappear into the night. When Ron and Ginny started towards the backdoor as well, she gave a small, choked cry and held them back.

"Mum--"

"You will not!"

Intervening, Snape said, "I'll take the children. When we're out of sighting distance I'll send for help." Without waiting for a response he ushered Ron, Ginny, Draco, and the two Harrys through the house like a hen with her chicks. "Keep quiet and low."

Harry looked sideways at his twin and felt a second pang of sympathy at the panic on the boy's face. Had he escaped only to be recaptured and killed?

_No_, Harry thought firmly._ I will make sure he gets back all right, no matter what I have to do._ As they crossed the living room, he grabbed the other Harry's uninjured arm and whispered, "We have to get out passed the far trees. When I say, we'll go behind the shed and make our way over the far hill. It's towards the right."

The other Harry only looked at him. He seemed more inclined to want to stay near Snape and Harry partially couldn't blame him: the man who'd just saved him and whom he knew to be his mother's friend must look safer to be with than another kid his own age.

Trying to be more confidence-inspiring, Harry whispered, "Just stay quiet and follow my lead." Anything else he might say was cut off as the group reached the front door.

"Wait here," Snape whispered. He pushed the front door opened and peered out. The night was still except for the sounds coming from the back of the house. "_Quietly_," he emphasized, looking at the other Harry meaningfully.

The boy nodded, his eyes round.

_He didn't listen to a word I said_, Harry realized with annoyance.

Still looking carefully from side to side, Snape moved out into the yard and beckoned for them to follow. He walked towards a line of trees on the opposite side of the yard from the shed, which Harry thought was a more risky plan than going for the old building as they would be visible to the group in the back for several feet before getting into the woods.

If he and the other Harry were going to break off, now was the only time they could do it.... Harry poked the Harry in the ribs and nodded towards the shed.

The other Harry shook his head.

Harry nodded.

Glaring and frowning, the other Harry shook his head harder and moved even closer to Snape. Dangerously closer to Snape....

Not expecting the boy so close to him, Snape went to turn and knocked into him, sending him sprawling on the ground. Harry yelped in pain as he landed on his burnt arm and a gruff voice from the backyard bellowed, "There's more 'round front!"

Grabbing Harry by the collar of his shirt, Snape hauled him to his feet, and shoved him towards the woods. "Run, you fool!" In the confusion that followed several things happened: Ron and Ginny went missing completely; Hermione darted across the lawn and ducked into the shed--not such a safe place now that attention had been drawn to the front of the house; and Harry bolted after the other Harry, who'd taken off at a blind run towards the wrong section of woods.

"Pin them down!" someone yelled.

A bright light flashed on his left and Harry threw up a shielding charm on instinct. He cast a hex towards the source of the light with a blind swing of his arm just he caught up to the other Harry. They were still several feet from cover and there was no way they had gone unnoticed with the sky as bright as daylight from the flare spell.

_This is home,_ Harry thought with an odd amount of resolution._ The other world isn't real, and I am back home now_. His heart pounding against his ribs, Harry ducked a jet of red light, his fingers curled firmly in a wad of the other boy's shirt. "This way!" he ordered, dragging him towards the closer portion of the woods. In the thick of the forest they could lose the Death Eaters then make their way--

As they were about to enter the trees a green hex hit the other Harry from the side, slamming him to the ground. Harry, who was still clutching his shirt, was pulled down as well and hit his head on a stump.

Dizzy, eyes watering, Harry looked around sharply. There were three tall, cloaked people coming towards them. Before he could check if the other boy was all right or do anything in defense, the other Harry threw himself forward on the ground and was violently ill.

"Who have we here?"

Whipping his head around in a sightless search, the other Harry called, "Severus!"

_Shut up!_ Harry thought, panic rising in him as the people stopped advancing and watched them. _They've seen us. They've noticed.... _He tried to grab the other boy but missed as he stumbled to his feet._  
_

"Severus!" he called again.

Doing the only thing he could think to do, Harry shouted, "_Expecto Patronum_!" The white light of the Patronus shown above that of the flare, blinding their assailants long enough for him to stand as well and drag the other boy into the woods. "Quit your screaming and run!" Though he wondered about the other boy's ability to run--he still didn't know what spell he had been hit with--Harry was relieved when the weight he was pulling eased and the other Harry seemed to be moving more under his own effort.

Crashing in the bushes behind them told Harry they were being pursued. He ran faster, ducking branches and batting clumps of leaves out of his face. The other Harry kept pace with him, though he seemed to be favoring one ankle. Harry jumped over a log and found himself sliding down a steep ravine. When he stopped halfway down, he jumped up and began to move forward when a firm grasp on his arm pulled him to a sudden halt. He looked behind him.

The other Harry was still on his feet, his face smeared with dirt and sweat. "Down there," he said, pointing to a shadowy place between two rocks to their right.

As Harry moved over, he saw a narrow chasm open in what had appeared to be solid rock--he never would have noticed it. Crouching behind the other boy, he crawled into the tight space and fell against the farthest wall he could reach.

The other Harry fell down beside him, holding his ankle. "Fuck!"

"Shh!"

They sat in silence for several minutes, neither one breathing more than was necessary. The sounds of people coming down the slope echoed through the woods. Both Harrys stiffened.

"They can't have gotten far!"

A second voice called, "If we keep going we'll come out by the village, though. We should go back now--"

"Are you _mad_? Did you see who that _was_?"

A third voice affirmed, "We can't let him escape. We wouldn't be forgiven...."

"_We_ didn't let him escape," the second voice said darkly.

_Snape_, Harry thought. He felt the urge to burst out upon them, keep them from returning and telling anyone that the fake Harry Potter had been set free and was begging for Severus Snape's aid.... _I have to do something._ He moved towards the mouth of the chasm but the other boy reached out a hand to stop him.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We'll be found!"

There was that point to consider as well. With a sigh, Harry sat back, his mind racing. They were out here alone: no one knew where they had gone and the other Harry would be no help if things went poorly. Three against one.... If it was only his own life he was risking, Harry would have taken the odds, but he wasn't alone and he needed to act accordingly. Snape would have to take care of himself....

When the three Death Eaters had moved away from the hiding spot, the other Harry said, "Where should we go? If there's a village right out there--"

"No way. I'm not endangering muggles, and that's all we'd be doing by drawing them out there."

Harry frowned. "If we took that potion fast enough we'd be gone before anyone saw."

"The Weasleys own to a little passed the edge of the forest and I don't know where their warding ends. There isn't a lot of potion so we can't risk taking it some place it won't do any good."

"You heard Severus. There's enough for five to travel: we're only two. Even if we waste some once, we'll still be able to go."

"No," Harry said more sternly. "We'll wait a little longer, then go out around the woods, back towards the house. From there I'll know the ward limits." _And be able to check that everyone is OK_, he added to himself.

Though he didn't look happy with the arrangements, the other Harry remained silent for several minutes. He fussed with his ankle some more, then asked, "How are they?"

"Who?" Harry asked distractedly, still straining to hear movement outside.

"My parents."

Harry shrugged a little. "All right. Everything was fine." Feeling his face redden, he wondered if he should confess to breaking up with Draco and quitting church and soccer, though. This Harry might not find those things so "fine" when he got home.

The other Harry looked at him thoughtfully, studying his face, his eyes once more lingering on the scar. "How long have you been here?"

"Since Friday afternoon,"Harry answered, feeling self conscious.

"They have to have noticed you're gone," he commented. Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully before saying, "I bet Dad's pissed." He wiped listlessly at the blood on his cheek.

"Worried, at least," he agreed.

The other Harry snorted and leaned forward towards the break in the rocks. "I think we can go now. It's been quiet for a while."

Nodding, Harry said, "Stay close by me. Signal if you see anything moving. We'll follow the bottom of the ravine out to the road, then follow that back up to the house."

"They're OK, right?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "Your parents?"

"No. Them." The other Harry nodded in the general direction of the Burrow.

Harry tried not to think about where Ginny might be and somehow couldn't bring himself to tell the boy that he'd probably just signed Snape's death warrant; all he said was,"Come on. And stay close."

**~~***~~**

As they worked their way cautiously through the woods, both boys jumped several times at small noises and a couple times at accidentally bumping into one another. It was very obvious that the other Harry was not used to this sort of stress. When they found the road he said loudly, "Thank God," and Harry hissed for him to be quiet: this was the more dangerous part of the journey.

Following the road from a couple feet into the trees just in case someone came along, Harry kept looking at the sky: there was no sign of the Dark Mark in the still air and that fact gave him hope that Snape had been able to contact the Order in time to send help. Harry's musing was interrupted suddenly:

"What's that smell?"

Harry stopped moving and sniffed at the breeze. There was something there: burning, and a toxic stench like wet paint in a closed room. He felt ill. "Keep quiet. We'll cross to the other side of the road and go up that hill. It should come out by the orchard."

As they changed their path and moved closer to the house at the same time, the foul odor intensified. It smelled like...something. Harry couldn't put him mind quite on it, but it was very familiar now that it was stronger than light wafts on the back of the air.

The other Harry suddenly stopped walking and threw up again. "God, it smells like--"

Even as the other boy said it, Harry realized: "Flesh. Skin. Someone's being burned." t was heavy and the stench tasted like chemical and potion on the back of Harry's tongue_. It smells like the time Neville melted his cauldron and got burns all over his legs._ He fought back the urge to vomit as well and started walking faster.

"It smells like the accident," the other Harry said in a low voice, finishing his initial comment though not daring to use such blunt words as Harry. After a moment more of fast walking, he said, "I almost died, you know. There was a fire."

"What?"

"The car wreck. I got hit on the head and knocked out. I came around for a minute and there was a fire in the engine. I could see it coming up my legs, but I couldn't feel anything. Then I passed out," he finished in a very small voice.

Harry frowned. No one had mentioned the car being on fire to him.... But his parents didn't really talk about what they found at the accident, and if he didn't show any signs of being burned.... Bet the boys at the hospital were just as confused about what happened as everyone else, he thought. _Mom said there were a lot of unanswered questions about the accident._

Looking sideways, Harry asked, "Madame Pomfrey healed you, then?"

"I suppose so. When I woke up I felt better than I ever had in my life. I thought I was dead, to tell you the truth. Bit of a scare when everyone started telling I wasn't, and filling me in on what happened since I'd disappeared.'"

Harry nodded a little, finding the situation very ironic. "I bet. I was thrown off just by having to have a CT scan." Despite all the trouble it had been, the switch saved the other Harry's life, and as long as Harry could get the boy home in one piece, he would consider it all worth while just to know that somewhere in existence he had a happy family.

Harry started to say something, but the other Harry cut him off. "I hear voices."

Indeed, they were coming to the edge of the woods behind the shed. There were two Death Eaters standing in the open front yard. On the ground between them was a massive lump of smoldering black robes. "How did you think you were getting away with this one, Snape?" the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange curled out from behind the white mask with satisfaction.

_Snape!_

The other Harry took several steps back and stifled a dry heave behind his hand.

Snape began to stir. "I don't know what you're talking about." His voice was thick and raspy with effort and pain. He pushed himself up, the right side of his face pink and shiny in the moonlight where the skin had been burned off it by some hex or curse.

_He's alive?_ Harry knew he couldn't go out there, but he couldn't stand here and do nothing!

"I'll finish you off myself," Bellatrix cackled, pointing her wand at his face.

With a steely resolve in his eyes, Snape stared at her insolently, as though daring her to kill him.

Without thinking, Harry pointed his wand at Bellatrix. "_Stupefy_!"

Bellatrix began to turn but was hit squarely in the back and fell over, stiff as a board. The second Death Eater whirled towards Harry but before he could make a sound, Snape had grabbed Bellatrix's wand and shot a wordless, green curse at him. There was a tense moment, then the Death Eater slumped to the ground, completely motionless.

Harry looked around then inched out of the trees. "Snape."

"I thought you'd be gone," the man said, gasping as he tried to sit up.

"I-I had to--"

"Silly predictable boy," he spat as though he were not prone but looming over Harry with a superior sneer. "When I told you to run, I meant it. Go."

With a final look at Snape, Harry backed into the woods. "He'll be fine," he told the other boy, not entirely sure, but not wanting to risk another outburst. There were still shouts from the back of the house and that told him that the Weasleys were at least putting up a fight still. He was about to edge around the house and see if he should help when he heard someone scream, "On the hill!"

Rushing carelessly through the bushes, Harry rounded the house in the shadow of the forest and watched as person after person emerged from the orchard hill: there were five in all, running towards the fight now taking place near the backdoor, firing spells into the fray. Harry squinted and let out a breath of relief when he recognized the man at the front of the group as Remus. Help had come.

"We can't make it up the hill now," the other Harry said. "They're moving that way!"

"We'll go around," Harry said and, ducking, crept through the trees. It was true that the reinforcements were pulling the battle closer to the orchard, and he and Harry's way out, but he felt confident that they could slip by without being seen. As the two circled through the trees, the shouts grew louder. When they came out in the bushes directly by the orchard, Harry was too tempted and had to look down the hill to make sure everyone was still all right.

The fighting was more heated than before and he itched to run down and help as two Death Eaters converged on Remus. Remus fought one to the ground and dodged the other, then Tonks, who had just immobilized her opponent, ran to his aid.

Torn by his promise to make sure Harry got home safely, Harry looked towards the fighting at the bottom of the hill from the safety of the bushes one last time, then looked at the other Harry. An odd swell of emotions came up in the back of his throat: sympathy, worry, annoyance, and anger. This was all his fault.... Well, not really, but Harry was sure the attack on Snape was, if nothing else. He still could not believe the other Harry had been stupid enough to appeal to Snape in front of the other Death Eaters.

Ducking behind Harry impatiently, the other boy peered back at the house. "Can't we leave now?" He looked pale and his hands were shaking.

Harry stared at his identical self incredulously. "Did you _see_ what just happened? Half a dozen people just came running in from this very spot!"

"All the better reason for us to go while we can. If someone didn't see us coming up here anyway, then they'll send someone to cut off anyone else who might show up."

"And because of that, we can't go, _especially_ not now!"

"This is ridiculous," the other Harry said. He threw his hands in the air and started to walk deeper into the trees.

"What's ridiculous is you!" Harry retorted sharply. "You're a spoiled git and you don't care about anyone around you!"

Rounding on him, his eyes flashing with anger, the other Harry yelled, "What the hell do you think you know about me? Don't you think for even one second that you know anything! Just because you lived in my house for a few months doesn't make you anything to me! Or me to you!"

Harry growled. How could this person be so blind? He was putting them all in a lot of danger. And after everything they had risked to save him! "Can't you see it's not safe? This whole area is probably being monitored for movement in or out. Also, we have to make sure we can get out an that we get to the right place, _together_. There's only so much potion and Snape's not about to brew another batch any time soon, in case you didn't notice," he pointed out accusingly.

Harry was surprised at how angry he was about Snape's injuries. The man had meant nothing to him before. He was the evil Potions Master, the git who made life hell. The one who killed Dumbledore and worked for Voldemort. But now he was different. He was Lily's friend and he liked milk in his coffee....

Incised at his unexpected attachment to Snape, Harry pressed, "All you have to do is be patient and everything will be fine. You'll have your life back and I'll--"

"What if I don't want it back?" Harry asked suddenly, his voice dark.

Harry stared, his anger melting into confusion. "What do you mean?"

Crossing his arms and taking on an air of petulance that Harry had never seen achieved in someone older than five, the other Harry repeated, "What if I don't want it? You think it's so great, you have it."

"And what? You'd stay here?" Harry gestured widely to the trees they were hiding in. He knew he should be more quiet, but his temper was rising uncontrollably: he was very lucky that the noise down the hill was loud enough to cover his voice. "You'd give up everything you've got?"

"What've I got that's so great?"

"You've got parents!" Harry exploded, exasperated at how selfish this boy was. "You have _everything_!"

"So?" he sneered stubbornly.

"I'd give anything to have what you've got," he told him quietly.

Narrowing his eyes, the other Harry demanded, "Then why'd you come rescue me? Why didn't you just stay there and keep them? Keep it all?"

Harry couldn't think of a single reason he hadn't told Draco to leave when he'd had the chance, and he was beginning to regret coming back more and more. A scream came from the garden and he took several steps back towards the house, then stopped himself. No. He said he would keep Harry safe. Hopefully Remus and Mr. Weasley could look after everyone down there who couldn't look after themselves....

Turning and walking towards the other Harry, Harry narrowed his eyes and jabbed him in the chest. "I will hold you personally responsible for every single person who gets injured in that house. Now follow me and keep your mouth shut. We'll stay back here in the woods until light."

Moving back into the trees, Harry found a covered spot with an open view to the sky above the house. If he saw the Mark go up, he'd go down there, but for now it was too dangerous for him and for the other Harry: if he took the boy into the fighting, or even tried to leave him here, he'd probably get one or both of them killed.

It was nearly another half an hour before the shouts and curses stopped echoing up the hill. There was no retreat made into the orchard by either side, which meant someone had clearly won and someone had clearly lost.

"Do you think it's over?"

Harry looked at the other boy. They hadn't spoken to one another since sitting down to wait and Harry had been sure he was asleep. "Sounds it," he answered. "I should go check."

"Why did you do that earlier?" he asked suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Run after me when I went the wrong way. You could have died," the boy stated, his eyes oddly round as he spoke.

Wiping some mud off his pant leg so he could look somewhere besides at the other boy, Harry replied, "What would Lily and James do if they never got their son back? They'd never forgive me."

"I thought _you_ wanted them. If I died, you could just go back there."

Harry thought a moment. He'd had plenty of time to consider just that in the last hour, and now that he had to try and put the thoughts into words it was difficult. Finally, he said slowly, "Sort of...but not really. I want _my_ parents."

The other Harry looked confused.

"_Your_ Lily and James would be horrified to see us in this kind of situation." As if punctuating his statement a loud bang came from down the hill, signaling that the fighting was not entirely over. Harry's eyes darted to the skies, but went reluctantly back to the other Harry when no skull appeared after a minute. "Mine would be disappointed if I didn't take the risk to save my friends," he finished. Realizing the truth and significance of his statement, Harry looked around at his hiding place. He stood up. "I have to go down there. Stay here. I'll come back when it's safe."

"And if you don't come back?"

With a resolved sigh, Harry said confidently, "I will." He tapped the scar on his forehead. "Unless Voldemort himself is down there, I can't die yet." He didn't think the stupid prophecy would actually keep him alive if ten Death Eater pointed Killing Curses at him at once, but saying it made him feel braver and he pushed his way out through the bushes and jogged towards the crest of the hill. The yard below was quiet and still, and Harry felt ill as he began to run, wand out, a hex prepared on the tip of his tongue.

TBC

**~~***~~**

How did you like it? Better than the last one, I hope. Only one left.... I know you must be wondering how I'm going to wrap all this up in just one chapter! Maybe not.... But it will be a longish chapter...and posted by midnight...hopefully. Early Happy News Year Eve and I'll be back soon. (I'll probably post the last chapter right at midnight, just to be interesting. ^_^)


	17. In Which Things Are Put Right

I can't say how good it feels to be posting this last chapter! There will be an epilogue--a very short one what has little to do with anything important, that may or may not be posted tonight. As I am typing this note is it 11:20, East Coast US time. To everyone who has been reading and reviewing, thank you! Happy New Year and I'm so glad you could all share my 2008 New Year's goal. To everyone who is reading this after the fact, many thanks to you too, and I hope you've enjoyed the journey.

I am very pleased with this last chapter. It ended up shorter than I thought it would be--I cut a bit as I was editing it because one small detail changed which affected a couple scenes pretty dramatically. I hope you all like it and I promise there will a follow up to show the "real world" Harry's return. Nothing so long as this, but just a few snippet to let you know how he transitions.

On to the final chapter:

**~~***~~**

The flare spell had long-since burned out and as Harry jogged down the hill in the dark he wondered what he would find when he reached the bottom. He kept to the side of the yard near the trees in an effort to remain hidden. He would have felt better if he could hear anything: even more shouting would have comforted him above the heavy silence.

Harry reached the shed and stopped behind the building. He peered out at the house, scanning the surrounding area for movement. His muscles were tense with nervous energy. The bushes swayed in a cool breeze and he shivered. He would never see anything if he stayed where he was. Creeping around the far side of the little building, he eyed the ground where he had last seen Snape and his attackers: only one figure remained--the Death Eater Snape killed.

Shivering again at the memory of how effortlessly Snape had used the Killing Curse, Harry slunk across the yard, warily peering from side to side. How he wished he had his invisibility cloak. He didn't even know where it was now.

"I think I hear something."

Harry froze at the rasping whisper. It came from the pig sty near the house. Ducking close to the ground and pointing his wand in that direction, he continued to inch forward, staying in the shadows created by the clouds passing over the moon.

"Shh!"

The exchange sounded too juvenile to be Death Eaters, the voices too low. Taking a chance, Harry whispered into the darkness, his wand raised higher, just in case, "Who's there?"

"Harry?"

"Ginny?"

"Merlin, get over here!"

Running in a crouch for the last couple yards, Harry scrambled over the fence and crawled towards the little hovel that housed the pigs. Ginny and Hermione were huddled in the corner farthest from the door.

"Are you both OK?" he asked, staring between them, trying to make out if they looked injured.

"We're fine," Ginny said. "I don't know about anyone else though."

"What happened? You were supposed to go to the Lovegoods'." Harry tore off his ripped shirt sleeve and tied it around Hermione's wrist, which was bleeding and swollen.

Hermione stifled a sob then said, "We couldn't get to the woods. There were Death Eaters everywhere. I hid in the shed, but they found me."

Anger boiled in Harry's veins.

"They dragged me out but before they could do anything P-Professor Snape stopped them. He told me to hide and wait." Hermione was shaking so badly that Harry thought she might rattle the building.

"It's all right."

"I think they killed him," she whispered, her eyes wide and shining with tears. "I heard screaming and there's a--_a body_...."

Recalling the body on the lawn, Harry shook his head. "That's a Death Eater. Snape's safe. I saw him alive. At least, he was OK an hour ago. He's not out there any more."

Ginny pushed herself into a kneel and leaned towards the little door. "We have to make sure everyone's all right."

"No. Stay here."

"It's quiet--"

"No!" Harry said a little more loudly than he meant to. "I don't want you going out there. There haven't been any Death Eaters up to the orchard and I doubt they'd leave another way if they were retreating. They have to still be here somewhere. Probably waiting."

Ginny glared at being told what to do, but seemed to agree that it was too risky to go out.

Harry looked out the door. The yard was still too dark to spot anything and he considered that if he couldn't see anything, neither could anyone else. It would be perfect cover to try and find the others. "Stay here, no matter what you hear."

"You just said it wasn't clear!"

Looking at her imploringly, Harry said, "I'll be back as soon as I know what's going on. I'll feel better knowing you two are safe. I'll be fine."

Hermione, much more used to Harry's do-or-die attitude, simply said in shaky voice, "Harry, be careful."

"I will." He crept out into the pen and moved towards the side of the house. The door was only a couple feet back. Maybe he could make it inside....

"Well, well. Out for a walk?" The cold voice came from the back of the house and Harry was sure the comment was directed at him until he heard another voice reply:

"I thought you were in the woods." It was Snape.

"I thought you were, too. Did you check the house?"

"It's empty. They must have run towards the village."

"The Lestranges are still missing," the first commented.

A slight pause. "They went through the forest to cut off any retreat. Bellatrix was hit, though."

"Dead?"

"I don't think so, but she'll be unhappy when she wakes." Snape's voice was even.

_Did everyone else get out to the woods?_ Harry wondered. _Or is Snape lying?_ It was impossible to tell.

The other man chuckled cruelly. "Who got you?"

"One of the brats. I wasn't keeping a close enough eye on them. It will heal."

He chuckled again then said, "If you're sure they're gone, we should burn the house and be done with it."

"Do as you like," Snape answered lazily. "But one thing first." A moment passed.

"Snape, what are you--"

"_Obliviate_! _Stupify_!"

There was the general racked of someone stumbling about for a moment, then falling to the ground. When everything had gone still again, Harry peeked around the corner to find Snape pulling the still Death Eater away from the side of the house with visible effort.

Snape?" he called quietly.

Glaring at him, Snape asked, "Do you ever do as you're told?"

"Is everyone all right?"

"For your concerns, yes."

"Is it safe?"

"Go to the Lovegoods."

"Where are _you_ going?"

With an ironic smile, Snape said, "To report your escape."

"Will you be all right if you go back? Won't Bellatrix--"

"Oh, what she doesn't remember won't hurt me, Potter. I'll be in touch when it's safe, but for now you have to go. And listen to me this time."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded and moved back to the front of the house. He went to the pig pen fence and hissed, "Ginny! Hermione! Come on!"

Several seconds passed before the two emerged.

"Into the woods!"

Jogging across the lawn, they entered the woods near the shed. Harry led them back into the trees several feet before stopping. "You go to the Lovegoods'. I think everyone is there. I'm going to get Harry and meet you guys there. Tell everyone we're fine and we won't be far behind you."

"Harry--"

"Just go," he ordered, not wanting them to have to see the Burrow on fire or the Mark in the sky: Harry was sure the Death Eaters would send it up. An attack on the Weasleys would be a strong message to the wizarding community and they would not want to let the opportunity go missed.

After a moment, Ginny nodded and said, "Follow the road north. There'll be a meadow. If you don't look properly, you'll see a broken down barn at the back of it, by the stream, but when you get closer it'll be a house. That's where Mr. Lovegood lives."

Harry nodded his understanding.

When Ginny and Hermione had run away, Harry stood and watched the house. Three figures came out of the woods on the opposite side of the lawn. One ran to the man Snape had attacked and pulled him up.

"Not dead!" he called to the rest.

"Fire the house!" a woman's voice commanded. "If any of the rats _are_ left inside, let them burn! Or if they run out, kill them!"

The cloaked figures circled the house and sent fireballs at it. The woman who had spoken pointed her wand at the sky and a massive, toxic-colored skull bloomed overhead, blocking out the moonlight.

Harry could only stand there for several minutes, then he recalled the other Harry and his promise to meet Ginny soon. Tearing his eyes from the scene, he ran up the hill, back to the place he had left the other boy. When he got there, the other Harry was standing, looking up at the skull and serpent with an instinctive fear.

When he saw Harry approach, he said, "That can't be our side."

"Not likely," Harry commented. "But everyone's safe. Follow me." Harry hurried through the trees until he reached what he knew to be the edge of the Weasleys' property. They followed the road until he saw a wide meadow with a stream through it. At the back of the meadow was a tall, narrow house with many turrets and spindly balconies and extensions on the second and third floors. "That's got to be it."

"What? That old thing?" the other Harry asked with a sneer.

"Yeah," Harry answered, wondering if the other boy would ever be able to see anything but the barn. Maybe Harry had to tell him it was a house? As they moved along the edge of the forest, Harry described what it looked like and told him who it belonged to.

After a moment of jogging and squinting, the other Harry said, "This place is insane. How'd you do that?"

"Magic. Same as we do everything else," Harry commented. As they approached the door, Harry said, "Keep to the shadows, just in case it's a trap."

The other Harry didn't argue, but did as he was told.

Harry knocked and a light came on behind the door window.

Slowly, the door swung forward and an old man stood in front of them. "My beard! Come in, come in! The both of you!" As the Harrys entered the man peered out behind them, then closed the door. He led them down a hallway far too long to be in the narrow house then opened a broad door on the right.

They followed him into a kitchen where Mrs. Weasley and her children were sitting. Hermione sat beside Ron, her wrapped hand cradled against her stomach. She seemed to be in line for attention behind Fred (or George), who was having his mother poke a long gash on his bicep with her wand. The other twin was stretched out on the bench looking tired but more of less unharmed.

Tonks was there as well, and she was the first to look up as the Harrys entered the room: her eyes were red and puffy. "Harry."

Ginny jumped up and Mrs. Weasley poked her son especially hard.

"Thought you were making it better," he chided lightly.

"Harry, you made it!"

Harry looked around the room. "Where's everyone else? Mr. Weasley? Remus? The others?"

Ron stood up. "Dad's in one of the other rooms lying down. He'll be fine, but he's a bit banged up." Ron looked more worried than his voice betrayed. "And Lupin's in bad shape, too, but Mr. Lovegood gave him a potion and he's sleeping it off."

"Everyone else left from here," Tonks explained. "Flooed."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry said, "Snape got away all right. He was seen, but I think he erased the memories of everyone who knew he was there."

The group was quiet for several seconds and Mrs. Weasley went back to healing the wounded. Harry covered his own scratches: they weren't that serious and he didn't want her fussing over him. He turned to the old man who had let them in. "Thank you, Mr. Lovegood."

"No thanks needed, no thanks needed. We must all band together in these trying times." Though he seemed very nice, Harry couldn't help but wonder if madness ran in the Lovegood family: the man was wearing a very odd assortment of wizard clothes with several pendants and signs hanging from his neck on various sized chains. His hair stuck up worse than Harry's own, and the vacant look in Luna's eyes, he decided, was definitely hereditary.

Mostly out of concern, but also to be making conversation, Harry asked, "How is Luna?"

"Oh, she's away at school." Mr. Lovegood nodded several times. "Very bright girl. Very smart. Like her mother. Like her father, too, but there you have it." He sounded as though this explained everything, and in a way, it did.

Mrs. Weasley finished bandaging Hermione's wrist and said, "Harry, come here."

"I'm fine, but I think he has a hurt foot," Harry said, pointing to the other Harry. It was the first time he'd looked at him since coming in out of the dark and he was startle at how pale and sick his looked. "You all right?"

"Fine." He swayed on his feet.

Recalling the three Death Eaters who had attacked them in the beginning, Harry said, "I don't know what hit you."

As if in response, the other boy's eyes rolled up into his head and he fell over as promptly as if he had planned it. A moment went by before anyone responded because they were all so surprised.

"You said he was hit by something?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know what. It was green." The only thing green Harry knew of was Avada Kadavra, but that would have killed him, not made him ill.

"Get him on a bed," Tonks said, standing and helping George lift him. "Is there another empty room?"

"Right down there," Mr. Lovegood gestured.

When the other Harry was tucked safely into a bed, Mrs. Weasley insisted on checking that Harry was really OK, then said, "We can't bring him anywhere."

After a brief discussion, they settled on giving him some murtlap draught and waiting it out. Harry volunteered to sit with him in case anything happened.

As he curled up in the arm chair that had been brought into the room, Harry watched the boy with wonder. He was different, but somehow, not too. He sort of saw himself in this other Harry, and it frightened him a little. As the hours passed sleep over came Harry and he fell into a dream about the other world: his mother was making him breakfast and Sirius had just come over to take him out for lunch before they went to work on the car. Somewhere in his sleep Harry realized he was dreaming, and he savored every moment of it even as he knew it would end soon.

**~~***~~**

Harry woke as someone shook his shoulder roughly. "Huh? What?" he asked, looking around.

The other Harry was awake, staring at Harry closely. "You were talking."

"Sorry," he answered sleepily. When he realized that the boy was not only sitting up but looking no worse for the wear, he said, "Are you better?"

"I'm hungry, but yeah."

Harry swore.

"What? I haven't had food for almost a week. They gave me water, though," he commented quietly.

Shaking his head, Harry said, "I'll have you know, everyone thinks you might be dying."

"I'm still not convince I didn't die in the car crash," he replied. "I think I'm probably still alive, because this doesn't seem much like Heaven or Hell--"

Guilt about changing the other boy's life so much crept into the back of Harry's mind. He should give him some kind of warning.... "Speaking of Heaven, and all that, umm...."

Harry watched him for a moment then guessed shrewdly, "You and Riddle got into it?"

"A bit. You've sort of been excommunicated."

To Harry's surprise, the boy laughed. "I bet Mum flipped!"

"She wouldn't talk to me for weeks."

He laughed.

The door opened and Mrs. Weasley walked in. "What's all the noise?"

"He's feeling better," Harry said glummily. He didn't see what was so funny about Lily being angry at him. The memory of it and the realization that he'd wasted so much time that he could have had with her stung. She might not really be his mother, but she was beautiful and lovely.

Mrs. Weasley felt the boy's forehead and checked his eyes. "Seems fine. I'll bring you both something to eat, then we'll talk about getting you home."

The other Harry nodded solemnly.

The two sat in silence until Mrs. Weasley returned with a tray of bacon and eggs, then left again.

"What else changed?" he asked after a moment.

Harry looked up. He thought of Draco and blushed. "Well, Draco has promised to talk to you when you get back."

He raised his eyebrow and looked remarkably like Snape. "Promised to talk to me?"

Harry glared at him. "If you hadn't noticed Ginny, I'm not exactly into guys," he huffed in a low voice.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, the other Harry wrapped his arms around his legs and looked thoughtfully out the window. Daylight was streaming in, making shadows of tree branches dance across the floor and walls. If Harry expected something profound when the other boy finally spoke, he was sorely disappointed: "She did end up pretty, didn't she? Never would've guessed."

"Really," Harry answered blandly. Neither spoke. "How did you end up with Draco? I mean, I kept trying to figure it out...you know, when I thought it was really me."

"Nothing too much. It just sort of happened."

"Drunk at a party?" Harry sneered.

The other Harry shook his head, not looking remotely offended at the comment. "We actually started hanging out before we started partying. We were thirteen." He looked thoughtful and his eyes, which were clouded most of the times Harry had looked at them, shown with an odd emotion.

"What are you going to tell James and Lily?"

"That I got another bonk on the head and forgot everything again? I don't know. Like they'll even care."

"They'll care a lot."

"All they care about are my grades and my sports."

"That's not true." Harry sighed, deciding to give the finally confession: "I'm failing practically every subject and quit the soccer team. They didn't chuck me out of the house, or anything."

Harry stared at him in horror. "You what?"

"Like I said, I thought it was my life, so I did what I wanted. Sort of. You're managing the team, at least. And if you're half as good as everyone seems to think you are, I bet you can pull your marks up by report time."

The other boy was still staring. He moved his mouth several times but words had failed him.

Hoping to make it better, Harry continued, "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Fine? Fine!" he bellowed. "This is my _life_ you're talking about! You just took it and--and threw it out the window like it was nothing!"

Feeling defensive, Harry said, "It's not like I did it on purpose."

"It doesn't matter if you did it on purpose!"

"You're the one who complained about only being liked for your grades and stuff. At least now you know your parents are concerned with more than that."

"Who cares what they're concerned with!? _I_ care about them too! This is my final year! I'll never get into university!" The boy got on a roll and Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Lily. When he'd yelled himself hoarse, he finished with, "You ruined my life completely!"

Harry stood up and yelled back, "_I_ ruined it? What were_ you_ doing with it? You went and got yourself killed in a car wreck because of some stupid fight with your stupid boyfriend, that was just a setup in the first place because you pick lousy friends! And I'd bet anything you were more than just drunk when you got in the car with Colin, too!"

The other Harry jumped out of bed, his face red. "You don't know anything!" He didn't meet Harry's eyes as he said this.

"I know your life's different than it was when you left it, but at least I haven't done anything _that_ stupid!"

The punch was thrown before Harry realized what happened. Stars popped up in front of his eyes. Reeling backwards, Harry glowered back at the other boy. He would give him that he had a right to be upset, but he certainly wouldn't back down when he knew he was right. He didn't know whether to punch the boy or draw his wand. In the end, he only said, "You're pathetic."

Dropping his arms to his sides, the other Harry answered quietly, "So are you."

"How so?"

"You want my life so bad you can't stand it. You're jealous of what I have--" he looked at the scar again-- "but you won't even admit it. All you'll do is stand there, spouting on about 'your' parents and 'my' parents, like they're different people. Whatever poetic shit makes you feel better about your Hell."

"Our parent _are _different. Just like we are. We're nothing alike." Feeling a little sad at seeing what he would have been with a family, Harry stalked out the door and down the hall. _This isn't hell. I'm glad for what I have. I'm glad I'm not like him._

_**~~***~~**  
_

The Weasleys and Remus stayed at the Lovegoods' for another day: Remus had left that morning to meet with McGonagall and pass on the news of what had happened and to assure her Harry and all were well. When it started to get dark Thursday evening, Mr. Weasley pulled Harry aside.

"We need to move from here. We're still in danger and we're making this a dangerous place. A target."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Mrs. Weasley and I are going to leave soon. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron will go with Fred and George to a safe location. We figure if we're being watched you'll be safe here for a couple days after we're gone. On Friday Mr. Lovegod will take you outside his wards and you'll leave to bring the other Harry home."

Nodding again, Harry felt his anger towards the other Harry ebb enough for him to be worried. He had felt a little safe here with , and the Weasleys, Tonks, and Remus, and now it was being taken away from him again.

"When you come back, go to Diagon Alley, then send Fred and George a message with your Patronus. They'll meet up with you and take you to their safe location."

_And from there, Hermione, Ron, and I will set out,_ he thought. "OK, Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley nodded and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Good man."

Harry's chest swelled with affection for Mr. Weasley and he was glad the man was with him right now. They stood quietly for a moment, then Harry said, "I'll go tell Harry, shall I?"

Nodding, Mr. Weasley patted his shoulder once more than went into the room where the rest of his family were camping.

Feeling very alone, Harry walked back down the hall. He pushed the door open without knocking and found the other Harry still in bed. "Are you ever getting up? I thought you weren't ill any more."

"I'll get up later."

Harry sighed. "Mr. Weasley's just told me the plan for getting you home." He relayed the messages and finished by saying, "So you should be happy then." He started to leave.

"'M sorry."

"Hmm?"

"I said I'm sorry. For yelling at you. It's not your fault, or anything."

Not in a very forgiving mood, Harry just made a sound in his throat and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

When it came time for the Weasleys' to leave, Harry said goodbye. The other Harry even came out and thanked them and wished them a safe journey to wherever they were going. Mrs. Weasley hugged him and said she hoped he had a safe journey too. They she drew Harry and Hermione into a bruising embrace and held them for a very long time.

Both Harrys shook hands with Mr. Weasley, then watched from the door as the pair left. They did not speak to one another all that night, even over dinner, which they were both in the dining room for.

Tonks, who seemed in better spirits after getting word from Remus, was very interested in the other world and asked a great deal of questions about the people and life there. As Harry listened to the other Harry describe the world as he saw it, he was startled to learn they had a very similar view, when all was said and done. He described his best friends, Ron and Hermione, an affectionate glint in his eye. He told them about soccer and how he looked forward to playing professionally. When Tonks asked how he became interested in it, the other Harry bragged about his father for nearly half an hour straight.

Harry felt ill as he listened. He knew he was not going back to that place and he felt a deep sense of loss. When dinner was over, he left the table is silence and sat alone by the front window, staring out at the stars. He wasn't mad anymore, just terribly lonely for his parents. Even when Ginny came to sit with him he ignored her until she left.

When it was time for everyone else to leave, Harry said his goodbyes quietly. The other Harry shook hands with Ron, apologized to Hermione in very vague term, who blushed and nodded her acceptance, and told Ginny he was sorry he didn't know her in his own world.

Hermione threw her arms around Harry. "Be careful. We'll see you when you get back."

"Bye."

Harry returned to the window to watch Mr. Lovegood lead the group out to the woods behind the stream. He stayed there until Tonks finally shooed him off to bed at midnight.

**~~***~~**

Friday morning, Harry woke early and went to wake the other Harry. He found him already up and dressed.

"It's time to go, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. He looked at the boy's bare forehead with a hint of spite and finally admitted to himself that he was, indeed, at least a little jealous. He left.

Mr. Lovegood met the boys in the living room just as the sun finished rising. "All packed and ready?"

"I haven't much to bring," the other Harry answered. He looked at Tonks. "Bye. Thanks."

She smiled at him. "You be good."

"Yes, ma'am."

They followed Mr. Lovegood outside, watching warily as they went. They were safely into the trees within minutes and they walked quickly, not talking. When they reached a small clearing, the old man stopped and said, "Here you go."

With a sigh, Harry took the vial out of his pocket. He'd been protective of it since Snape had given it to him and he looked at it as though it was the greatest treasure. "We have to swallow it at the same time. You'll feel a pull and see a lot of light. Don't worry. Just keep hold of me. I'll signal three to swallow."

The other Harry nodded as he watched Harry take a small pull on the vial then hand it over. Taking some of the liquid in his own mouth he handed the rest back. Harry quorked it then raised three fingers. He dropped the first and second quickly, hesitated, then dropped the third. They swallowed and began their journey to the World of Worlds.

They flew through time and space, bright lights blinding them until they reached the sprawling green and blue earth with the purple sky. They landed side by side near a narrow pool.

"That was...." The other Harry looked queasy.

"It'll get better," Harry said, guessing that they would have to Disaparate out of the sky again. "You'd better hold on real tight and keep your eyes closed. I'll tell you when you can open them."

"It can't be worse than that."

Harry didn't answer, but offered his arm to the boy.

He gulped, took the offered grip, and waded out into the pool after Harry.

As Harry guessed, they dropped into the atmosphere miles and miles above the Earth. Harry closed his own eyes and thought of the park near the Potters'. It was the safest place: they could walk to the house from there. As they disappeared the familiar squeezing sensation pushed in on Harry, threatened to make him lose his grip in the other Harry. After several seconds, they appeared in the park.

The other Harry fell to the ground, gasping, his eyes round. He was unable to speak for a very long time and they sat on the swings while he calmed down.

"You opened your eyes after we went into the pool, didn't you?"

Wordlessly, he nodded.

"Told you." Harry stood up. "Come on. Let's get going before school gets out and anyone happens along who'd see us together."

"I know a back-cut to the house that doesn't go by the school," the other Harry offered, standing as well. His legs were shaky and he still limped on his one foot--he hadn't told Mrs. Weasley that he'd hurt it after he came to, and didn't seem to mind the inconvenience. Perhaps he planned to use it in his excuse for being gone for a week.

Harry followed the other boy through the familiar neighborhood. He felt sad and even more lonely than ever. How he wanted to stay! But he couldn't, and as they came to the street behind the Potters' he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

The other Harry stopped in front of an unfamiliar house. "We can cross into the backyard from here. There's a loose board on the fence I use for sneaking in and out."

"Oh. OK."

The boy pushed his hands into his pockets and stared sheepishly at his feet. "You're still pissed at me, huh?"

Slowly, Harry said, "I'm not pissed. I'm just...." His eyes darted to the other boy's forehead, a scar still conspicuously absent. "I think you're a little right. About me being jealous." Before the boy could reply, Harry started over the lawn and ducked into the high bushes beside the fence.

The other Harry came up behind him and reached around to push the board aside.

Harry went through and waited. The two looked at each other for several minutes, then Harry looked towards the house. It was still and the eves sparkled with dew. It was so tempting.... "You should go in. We're days late as it is: Mum's probably having a conniption."

Harry bit his lip. "I bet you could come in. I mean, you could wait and claim to be a long-lost son, or something. All drama like, where the doctors separated us so they could sell you on the black market, or something. It'd be like a BBC program. I know they'd like you."

It was one of the most ridiculous things Harry had ever had to contemplate, but also one of the most tempting. He could stay here. He could have parents and go to school and have a life.... A _real_ life that wasn't threatened by an ominous prophecy in which he must kill or be killed.... It caused him physical pain to mutter, "Go on. Go in."

The other Harry waited a moment as if to be sure Harry meant it, then started towards the back door.

Struck by the need to have one final word, Harry stepped forward, out of the bushes and called, "Harry."

The boy turned.

"Give Mum and Dad a hug from me."

As Harry opened his mouth to reply, the back door opened.

James stepped out, a full trash bag in his hand. He looked exhausted, his clothes rumpled, his hair even messier than usual. "I will, honey," he was calling back inside.

Harry froze: the man couldn't see both Harrys together.... He scrambled to get back into the bushes and duck down before James looked in their direction.

Seeming to sense the situation, the other Harry said, "Dad?" drawing all attention to himself.

From the bush Harry watched as James dropped the trash bag and stared at his son. Several emotions passed over his face, the last being anger. "Where the hell--" He stopped. In a softer voice he said, "God, Harry." James moved forward and embraced his son. "Your mother is going to kill you," he choked.

As he crouched out off sight, tears stung Harry's eyes. He wanted to run out there. He wanted to go into that house and never have to leave it....

James and the other Harry walked towards the door. James was saying, "Seriously, though, where did you go?"

"I got lost."

Shaking his head, James opened the door, said, "You'd better have a better story for your mother," and the other Harry disappeared back to his old life. "You hurt your ankle, too? Here, Sit down...." The door closed.

The longing to follow became almost overwhelming, then he thought of Ron and Hermione, waiting for him. He thought of Ginny. If he stayed here, he wouldn't have her. Worse, she wouldn't have him--all she would have would be Voldemort, at full power, unchallenged....

Guilt flooded him as he realized he had seriously considered not going back to the wizarding world. Hoping his own parents would forgive him the lapse in judgment, Harry stood up and muttered to himself, "I have to go back." As he turned to leave, he looked towards the house one last time, craning his neck and standing on tip toe to see inside the kitchen window. The curtains were drawn and it somehow felt appropriate that he should be shut out from a finally view into the family he was giving up, even though it hurt terribly.

Taking his small vial out of his pocket, Harry poured the thick liquid into his mouth and waited. It was almost a minute before he forced himself to swallow and felt the irresistible pull back to the wizarding world--back to his own life. Even as he resolved to go back and do what he needed to, he also resolved to keep the rest of the Traveling Potion. When everything was over, when no one needed him any more, he might use it again....

END

**~~***~~**

When I first finished this story I was struck by how sad the ending feels. I thought, "That's it? That's the best ending you can come up with?!"

Rereading it for editing, though, I'm struck by how much I like the end. It is sad, but look at the setting: he, Ron, and Hermione are just about to set off in search of the horcruxes and try to destroy Voldemort for good. He's resolved, but no doubt scared and unsure. In the interest of writing as though this really could have happened in the time lime of the actual series (which I usually strive to do), I think it's the best ending I could give this story.

Also, now that it's over, I can share some of my original thoughts: when I started I wasn't sure if the magic world really did exist or not: it could have gone either way. When I wrote the scene where it turned out Harry's arm had been broken (I imagine that the Skelo-Gro brings bones back the way they were last in the person, and so Harry did have the markings of broken bone despite the fact that they'd been completely removed and regrown), I thought to myself, "I can always take it out. It's only a couple lines."

Then I got the idea that Voldemort _had_ captured Harry in the raid on Hogsmeade, but needed to keep him alive for a while for some reason. To keep Harry from trying to escape or be easily rescued, he fashioned this fake world for Harry to "live" in while he was a prisoner. I wrote quite a bit of the story believing this would be the grand plot twist when all was revealed, but then something happened....

I thought of that same plot only as if James had never been killed, but only captured by Voldemort and was being kept in a pseudo-reality in which he thought he'd killed Voldemort the night he attacked the Potters. I won't go into that plot too far because I might actually finish it some day--it's not about James's fake life so much as James suddenly discovering he has been a prisoner and learning to cope with everything that _really_ happened in the 18 years he'd been gone.

Whether I ever write that or not, that plot twist suddenly belonged to a completely different setting and I couldn't make it go with my Harry-in-Wonderland story, no matter how I thought of it. So I kept writing, going back to the idea that magic really didn't exist. The only problem was that by then I had plotted Harry finding out he was a prisoner, escaping, and defeating Voldemort (all of this before DH was released). I felt very strongly that the magic world _had_ to exist.

The more I thought about it, the more it vexed me, until I sat down to write one day and the dream scene in which Harry, with his scar, sees the other Harry in Voldemort's clutches. From then on, the plot remained the same, though the exacts of where it would end kept changing. I even played with the idea of having James discover that the Harry he had wasn't his Harry, but I realized that would be ridiculous. We're talking a real-world James. No real-world parent would think their child was actually a version of himself from an alternate dimension. At least, no parent who should be _allowed_ custody of their child....

This story took a long and winding journey to completion and I was scared it might not make it their with all the changes and difficulties I faced writing it. I'm very glad it did, though. I think it's my favorite fan fiction that I've written and I hope you all liked it as much as I liked writing it.

Thank you all once again for your reviews, and I hope at least some of you were interested enough in the back story to stick through this very lengthy end note. ^_^* It's sort of like sitting in the theater for the movie credits....

Speaking of credits, many thanks to chibiduo, who has been there from the beginning, suffered through many unfinished stories, and bribed me with pretty dollies of characters by way of encouragement.


End file.
